Humpty Dumpty
by gingerlygeeky
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts is over and the wizarding world is trying to cope. The Boy Who Defeated the Dark Lord has tried to cope with the death and destruction over the last 7 years, but the culmination of it all was too much to bare. So, he simply forgot. But what happens when the wizarding world comes out of hiding? Who will help pick up the pieces and put him together again? HP/DM
1. Chapter 1

Humpty Dumpty

 **Chapter 1**

"Fuck." James jumped back as the flames from the pan got a little too high for his liking. He slapped the stainless steel lid down quickly and grabbed the cloth from his coat to wipe his brow.

"This is why we don't like leaving you alone in the kitchen on a Friday night, Flash!" A set of well-defined arms set a crate of soft-shell crabs down next to the walk-in cooler as the flames subsided. "While your food is amazing, most of us fear you may burn the place down." His blue eyes twinkled with mischief and the hint of something else as he watched the young chef peek at the pan, smiling as his creation seemed to fare just fine after the incident.

"I did not become head chef due to a proclivity for destructive fires," James turned to face Liam, his favorite co-worker, "But I will not deny that I push the limit just a little!" He winked and turned back to the dish, plating the fresh meal and ringing a bell at the pick-up window.

It was the last order of the night at the busy London establishment, Quid Row, where James had been cooking for the last 5 years. He loved this job, mainly because he worked his way up from apprentice to head chef in 2 years and he was proud of that achievement, but also due to the amazing team he worked with. He felt a true comradery with each member of his crew and like he was truly welcome into their family.

He turned off the burners on his stove and moved to the walk-in to help Liam put away the next day's dinner. Liam waved him off as he began to load the crate into the walk-in. "No way, you were here early this morning. Get out of here, I'll help Gabby close up shop." James smiled and wiped his unruly black mop away from his eyes, revealing his signature scar—the lightning bolt. It was how he got his nickname, Flash. He capped a hand on Liam's shoulder before taking off his chef's coat and placing it in the laundry.

"You're too good to me, Liam. See you tomorrow!" He winked at the young man and grabbed his messenger bag off of the hook by the door. He peeked out into the restaurant at the last few tables finishing their late night meal. He spotted Gabby by the front door, wiping down menus. "'Night Gab," he called with a small wave before slipping out the back door.

The air was crisp as the next day lingered just a few hours away, but after being in a hot kitchen all day long James felt it refreshing. He took the stroll home at a leisurely pace so he could relax and take in the sounds of London's night life. He was never one to enjoy the clubs and bars himself—his work life never left much room for a social life—but he enjoyed the idea of it. The idea of a vast social life with no responsibility. It just wasn't who he was and he knew that deep down inside. So, he chose to live vicariously through the social elite of London during his journey home.

As he walked down the main street, he noticed that the scene wasn't as lively as it usually was for a Friday night. The city dwellers seemed to have made a collective decision to just stay home tonight. Perhaps it was the pending rain that evening keeping everyone out of the streets despite the simple fact that London was defined by its rainy days and nights. Perhaps it was something else altogether—and if James hadn't been so exhausted from his long day at work he might have noticed that many of the bars that were known for their crowds were not even open that evening.

Had he been thinking clearly at all, he would be thankful for his exhaustion. It was that exhaustion that sent him straight to bed after a quick shower. It was that exhaustion that gave him a restful night's sleep while the rest of London—and most of the world—was trying to comprehend the information on the 10 o'clock world news. News that would change the world as James knew it.

* * *

The young woman chewed on her lower lip nervously as she pulled her bushy, sandy colored hair up into a tight bun. She ran her hands over her fitted, pin-striped blazer, smoothing out any wrinkles. She inhaled through her nose and exhaled out her mouth a few times before stepping through a red velvet curtain and out to the podium. Hundreds of lights and flashes impaired her vision slightly as she stepped up to the microphone. The murmurs of the crowd quickly died to a deafening silence as she opened her mouth to speak. "Good evening my fellow countrymen and women. My name is Hermione Granger and I am honored to introduce myself to you as the Head of Muggle Affairs for the Great Britain Ministry of Magic."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

James groaned as the sun hit his face, waking him from his dreamless sleep. He tried to make it a habit to sleep in on his days off, but his body did not seem to want to cooperate this morning. He looked over at the clock on his bedside table as it flashed a depressing 7:32 AM. He sighed, kicking the covers off and putting on his dark-rimmed glasses. He sat up and stared outside at the gorgeous, albeit all too early, morning just in time to see an owl fly past his third floor apartment window. He raised an eyebrow curiously. You didn't see too many owls in the center of London. It didn't occur to him as odd, however, until he saw four more fly past.

He stood up and went to the window, peering out onto the London skyline. The city streets were filled with people; an unusual amount of police taking up residence on every corner as they watched over the unusually crowded sidewalks filled with an unusual group of people in unusual looking robes. James, however, was oblivious to the unusual scene in the streets as his eyes were focused on the skies as what appeared to be hundreds of owls traveling in many different directions. If he looked close enough, he could even see some appeared to be carrying parcels.

"What in the-" he trailed off as his cell phone began to vibrate. He picked it up, noticing that he had 14 missed calls overnight. He flipped open the phone and before he could answer his ear was attacked with an overly excited voice.

"I have been trying to call you all night, mate!" Liam yelled into the receiver, "Where have you been?!"

"Sleeping, you wanker. What is all the excitement about?" James said, still watching the owls fly through the sky.

"You didn't see the news last night?" Liam questioned with astonishment, "I mean have you looked out your window?"

James laughed, "Yeah, I see them… wondering why there are so many owls in London. Did something happen at the zoo?"

Liam was silent for a moment. "Mate, look down. Look at the streets. And watch the news. I'm coming over." And then the line went dead.

"Hello? Liam? Hello…" James trailed off as his eyes dropped from the sky to the scene in the streets. His heartbeat began to race. His hand went limp, his phone dropping to the floor next to his feet. The scene would have been strange to see without any context, but it seemed to elicit a panic from deep within the young man. He backed away from the window quickly, stumbling a little and running a shaking hand through his hair. He didn't know what was going on in the city of London, but he was damn sure that he didn't want any part of it.

* * *

Hermione slumped over her desk as she hung up the receiver on the telephone. She had to remind herself that it was her bright idea to install a Muggle telephone line in the Ministry and that it was her idea to create a 24-hour hotline to address any Muggle questions and concerns that would arise after her press conference Friday evening. It was not her idea, however, to be the one solely responsible for that hotline—no, that was just the consequence of being the only muggle-born in the Muggle Affairs department. "Damn fellytone." She groaned, quoting her father-in-law.

"Granger…" came a cool voice from the doorway. Hermione looked up to see Draco Malfoy leaning against the frame of the door. She glared at him with her tired eyes and he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "Remember what you told me last night—that all of the pain will be worth it when we no longer have to hide." He stepped in, pulling his wand out of his sleek, black robes and conjuring a hot cup of coffee in front of her.

She gave a sheepish grin and grasped the cup of coffee. "Yes, Draco. Thank you for reminding me." She sipped the hot drink, letting it give her the jolt that she needed to get through the rest of the day. She set the cup down and reached for a stack of papers next to her desk, handing it over to the white-haired man sitting across from her. "Your assignment for the day."

Draco glanced at the paperwork and shook his head, "No way. Absolutely not." His immediate protest, drew another glare from the young director—his boss. He ignored it. "You have me on babysitting duty, Granger. You know I am capable of so much more. Put me in front of the cameras. Let me charm the Muggles. They'll devour me like a Large Mac."

Hermione laughed, "Big Mac. And no. You know that I can't do that." She stood up and walked to her window, ignoring the ringing telephone on her desk. "While you may be able to charm the muggle world with your obnoxiously good looks, you still have to charm the wizarding world." She shook her head as she saw a small display of fireworks make themselves known a few blocks over.

Draco opened his mouth in protest, but Hermione turned and cut him off. "Look, you know that I trust you, Draco. You've done nothing but prove yourself to me over the last 3 years, but it is not me that you have to win over. It's them." She alluded to the witches and wizards running free through the city streets. "They still don't know you like I do. They need to see the real you in action—down there in the streets, helping the muggles adjust to their new lives."

Draco knew she was right, but he still didn't like it. "Fine. I'll play by your rules. But do not expect me to do this forever. A week, tops. Then I want to be back in the office, doing PR work—where my pretty face belongs." He stood up, smoothing his platinum locks behind his ears.

"Just be careful out there, Draco." Hermione looked to Draco with a bit of concern. She had grown quite fond of her former enemy over their last few years in the Ministry together. True, she wasn't one to hold grudges, especially not when someone was able to prove themselves, but their history together at Hogwarts made their relationship now quite remarkable.

She looked out the window as Draco began to step out of the office, sighing deeply. "Draco," he halted as he turned to his boss. Her look was one of sheer exhaustion tinged with the tiniest bit of amusement, "Please tell Mundungus Fletcher to stop trying to pawn licorice wands off as real wands to the muggles."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Liam burst through James' apartment door, his eyes wide and filled with fear and excitement. "Flash, you gotta get down there! These people are crazy!" He laughed as he spotted James staring at his computer. The pretty girl from last night's press conference was thanking the public and a 1-800 number flashed on the screen.

James stared at his computer screen, his mouth hanging open a little. The hair on his arms was sticking up slightly and his heart was racing more than it should. He should have felt curious and excited—maybe a little fearful—but James felt such a deep seeded fear and even hatred that he couldn't explain. He sat in silence as he felt Liam's hand on his shoulder.

"This isn't good." He said quietly as he looked over to Liam, who laughed.

"What do you mean, mate? This is amazing! Magic! Can you believe it!?" He laughed, running to the window. "I mean real magic! Things flying through the air; hell, I saw them flying people through the air!" James shot up from the desk at that last statement.

"People?! They're using their…m-magic on people?" James' eyes were wide. He ran to his bedroom and Liam followed him laughing.

"It's wild. They're shooting off fireworks from their hands—well wands I suppose—and they have such delicious sweets they are giving to everyone. It's this huge party down there. We should go down…" Liam trailed off as he watched James move to his closet, pulling out his duffel bag and throwing some clothes in it. "Hey, slow down, Flash." He said quietly as he cautiously moved over to James who wasn't even looking at what he was throwing into the bag. "Hey. Hey!" He put a hand on James' arm, stopping the frantic packing and hooking his hand under James' chin—rough with scruff—pulling his face towards his. "What has gotten into you? You live for this kind of excitement!"

James shook his head, dropping Liam's hand from his face. "Not this, Liam. I don't know. There's something bad about this. I have a really bad feeling. We know nothing about these people and they just… they just show up." He didn't resume packing, though, letting Liam's hand linger on his arm. The feeling calmed him slightly, though his insides were in turmoil.

Liam laughed a little, grabbing James' other hand with his own. "Look, it's not like they just showed up. The Prime Minister has been in discussion with their government for the last few years. He's known about it and trusts them, so now it is our turn." Liam nodded to the bag of clothes strewn on the bed. "It's not going to do you any good leaving the city anyway. This isn't unique to London. It's all over the world."

James' heart sunk at those words. He hadn't remembered that bit from the conference. Frankly, he was distracted by the young woman speaking. She terrified him more than he thought a pretty girl would. She was familiar to him in some way and that frightened him—like he didn't want to remember why he knew her.

Liam let James get lost in his thoughts for a moment before he squeezed his hand gently. "Hey. Back to Earth, Flash. I know it's scary and a huge change, but you're not alone. You have the whole world adjusting with you…" he trailed off and grabbed James' face between his hands, "And you have me. Remember. I wouldn't let anyone hurt you—even if they have amazing sweets. You know, I ate a jellybean that tasted like earwax…" he mused and kissed James on the forehead.

James relaxed into Liam's touch. He had always known how to calm him. Especially during the last few months as they spent more and more of their free time together. James had never agreed to being exclusive—not because he wanted to be with other people—simply because the commitment of being with someone was almost as terrifying as the reveal of witches and wizards living amongst them.

"Hey, you promised me we would spend the day together, didn't you? Let's go down there and explore the world together. You can hide behind me and I can try more of those weird jellybeans." Liam kissed James softly and moved to the bed to stick the duffel bag back in the closet.

James turned to Liam and sighed, "Let me shower…" he said reluctantly as he made his way to the bathroom.

* * *

Draco sighed as he leaned up against a building, watching the crowds and keeping an eye on things in the streets. By late afternoon, the excitement had worn off quite a bit, but witches and wizards were still exploring the streets—popping in and out of Muggle shops as if they were on holiday to a strange place. The muggles were adjusting strangely well, Draco thought. It seems as if the words of their Prime Minister had put the people in a bit of ease, but he could see the prejudices beginning in some—a fellow took the long path around him as he eyed his robes cautiously. Draco made a habit of smiling warmly at the gentleman, who only sped up as he was acknowledged.

Draco sighed and pulled a package of cigarettes out of his pocket—it was the one Muggle habit he did not detest so much. That and Large—Big Macs. He really liked Big Macs. He held the drug between his lips as he lit the other end, watching a rather good looking couple exit a restaurant a few doors down from him. He took a drag as he looked closer, and coughed a little as his eyes widened.

A rather tall, pale man with dark hair was holding tightly to the hand of a distant memory. The muscles toned by years of Quidditch and that unruly mop of black hair. He'd know it anywhere, but what really took him back was the eyes—he had always had his mother's eyes.

Draco began to move towards the couple, following a few steps behind them. Maybe he was tired, maybe his eyes were just playing tricks on him. He heard him speak, and his stomach lurched.

"I'm fine, Liam. Really I'm fine…" the green-eyed man spoke to his partner, leaving Draco's mouth hanging open.

"Potter?" He called out without thinking. What was the chance? He hadn't seen Potter since… well since the Wizengamut trials were over. Since he helped Draco avoid the Kiss. It was the Saviour's last gift before he just… disappeared. He remembered how strange it was. His friends searched for him. The Weasel and Granger sent him owls every day, but after a year of no reply—they just stopped. He didn't want to be found. And now… now he was here, in the flesh.

* * *

"You doing okay? We can go back if you need to…" Liam squeezed James' hand tightly. James had been trying to have a good time, but every bang of a spell or cheer from a witch or wizard sent his nerves on edge. In the restaurant, someone had sent a paper crane flying past their table and he nearly flew backwards in his seat as if the passing magic had physically hurt him.

"I'm fine, Liam. Really, I'm fine…" he lied. And then he heard it. A voice, call to him. No… to someone, but he felt as if he knew the voice and that scared him. Instinctively he turned around.

His eyes met the silver eyes of a tall man with white hair and his face paled as he stopped in his tracks.

"James?" Liam stopped and turned to see what his mate was staring at. James had gone stiff and was shaking a little as he stared at the white-haired man in black robes. "Do you know him?" Liam whispered into James' ear.

The white-haired man stepped closer and James' body reacted before he could think. He threw his hands up, as if he was trying to create a barrier between him and the approaching stranger. As soon as his hands were up, he could feel something growing inside of him and in an instant, the white-haired man was thrown off of the ground, flying through the air.

"Holy shit!" Liam exclaimed. James didn't wait around to see what happened. He took off running in the opposite direction.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Draco could feel the intense magic before it hit him. If he wasn't so concerned about protecting himself from what was coming, he would have been more impressed at the wandless magic Potter was able to execute—it took a very strong wizard to perform wandless magic.

Draco reached into his robes as the wave of magic hit him, pulling out his wand as he flew through the air and muttered, "Arresto momentum," while pointing his wand at himself. He slowed down as he approached the pavement, landing softly. He stood quickly and brushed himself off as he looked after Potter. He met the gaze of Potter's friend before the dark-haired man took off after him, "James! James!"

"James?" Draco questioned out loud. He looked around at the crowds. Muggles were staring at him with their mouths gaping open while the witches and wizards were whispering to one another about the Boy Who Defeated the Dark Lord. "Was that really him? _The_ Harry Potter?"

Draco smiled sheepishly to the muggles, "Nothing but a bit of fun!" he spoke to the staring crowd and laughed nervously before walking quickly to the nearest payphone.

He stepped into the booth and reached into his pocket. Granger had given him some muggle currency in case of emergency. He felt this was an emergency. He put all of the silver coins into the little slot like Granger had shown him and pressed the numbered buttons in the order she had made him memorize.

"Draco?" Hermione answered with concern in her voice. "You called the emergency phone line, what is going on?"

"It's him, Hermione." Draco didn't realize it until now, but he was panting a little. His adrenaline was coursing through his veins.

"Draco calm down, him who?" And then she realized that Draco called her Hermione. He only did that when something big was about to happen and she needed to be calmed. Him… could it be? "Harry?!" She exclaimed, causing Draco to pull the receiver away from his ear. "You saw Harry? Is he okay? What did he say? How is he? Did he talk to you? Of course he did. How is he? Is he with you? Is he okay?" She rambled on, her voice trembling a little.

"Hermione, he acted like he didn't know me. He… well he seemed to recognize me, but he was terrified of me. Like I was going to murder him. And then he… he used wandless magic and sent me flying through the air…"

"He used wandless magic? Harry doesn't know wandless magic… unless…" she mused. "He used to lose control of his magic sometimes, when he was scared or really upset. Maybe that's what happened, Draco. Where is he now?"

"I don't know. He ran away."

"YOU LET HIM RUN AWAY?!" Hermione shouted into the phone, Draco dropping the receiver as a few expletives were exploding out of it.

"Granger," Draco hissed into the receiver, "What was I supposed to do? He took off before my feet hit the ground again."

"Go after him, Draco. Now. And you are not coming back until you have Harry James Potter with you!" With that, she hung up the phone.

"Granger… Granger? Dammit." Draco slammed the phone onto the receiver, ignoring the muggle coins that dropped into the coin return. What was he supposed to do now? Hermione just put him on the most ridiculous mission. There was no way he was going to find Potter. First, Potter seemed to hate him. _He doesn't hate you, he was scared of you._ Draco corrected himself. Second, where would he even start? It's not like London was a quaint little village. And what would he do if he found him?

He shook his head, leaving the phone booth. He should just go back to the office and talk to Granger calmly about all of this and hatch a plan. Despite that sound reasoning, he stared in the direction Potter had run off in. "Dammit, Potter… you better be worth it…" he muttered to himself as he made his way in that direction.

* * *

His feet were moving rather quickly—like he was born to run. He wasn't thinking about his lungs pounding against his chest or his heartbeat echoing in his skull. He just ran. He shoved past crowds of people without any regard to their well-being. His mind had shut off completely and he just ran.

At some point, he could hear someone calling his name. It was Liam, he was sure of it. He was also sure that he could outrun Liam. Liam worked out, sure, but he did not have the stamina that James had. He did not have the motivation to run like James did either. Eventually, he stopped hearing his name and when he felt his legs start to give out, he stopped, slumping against a tree in the suburbs of the city.

His head was pounding and while he tried to convince himself that he was dehydrated from the run, deep down he knew that something was not right. His mind was fighting itself, trying to explain what happened. His body was telling him to run—to keep running and to not stop. Yet, somewhere in his soul he was grounded and he knew he wasn't in true danger.

He looked down at his hands and realized he was shaking. These hands were just hands a few hours ago, but even though he had no proof for it, he knew they were the cause of that strange, but familiar man flying through the air. He could feel whatever force caused that reaction building up inside of him as it did and he could still feel it coursing through his veins.

James wasn't sure what his body was trying to tell him, but he knew that it was trying to tell him something. Something was happening—something that would change his life forever.

* * *

Draco ran as far as he could, but he wasn't really the athletic type. While he wanted to find Potter, he wasn't that concerned. True, most of Draco's hatred for Potter wasn't real—it was feigned as a result of his family's association with Voldemort—but when pretending to hate someone for most of your life, it becomes hard to separate those feelings. Potter had always been a huge focus of his life, especially when he became a pawn in Voldemort's army. In those years, Draco had spent much of his time thinking about Potter and he was glad to have a break from the Chosen One when the young man essentially disappeared after the war. Though, even then, Draco found himself thinking about his peer; it was because of Harry Potter that Draco was free.

* * *

 _June 2, 1998_

 _"We call upon Harry James Potter, Conqueror of the Dark Lord." Harry stood up and approached the podium in the center of the room and stood waiting for the questions he had prepared to answer._

 _"This is the trial of one Draco Lucias Malfoy for crimes against the Ministry and one Harry James Potter in conjunction with the rise and fall of He Who Must Not Be Named. Harry, please state your relation to the convicted."_

 _"Mal—Draco," he corrected, "was a classmate of mine at Hogwarts." Harry stated simply._

 _"And is it true that you and Mr. Malfoy were foes during your years at Hogwarts."_

 _"Yes. That is true."_

 _"So, would it be true in stating that Mr. Malfoy had just reason, along with his commitment to the Dark Lord, in his actions and crimes against the Ministry regarding your murder?"_

 _Harry thought for a moment before speaking, "While I believe Draco had just reason in aiding the Death Eaters and Voldemort—" there was a small gasp amongst the courtroom as Harry continued, "I do not believe that the reason was as malicious as you imply." Harry's eyes met Draco's for just a moment as he continued. "You see, Draco and I did not get along, but that was mere childish prejudice. When Draco became a Death Eater I believe that it was not due to desire, but rather due to family obligation. His actions during the rise of Voldemort and the Battle at Hogwarts were not consistent with someone who wanted me dead or wanted the Dark Lord to conquer. He had ample opportunity to turn me in or murder me himself and yet, he didn't."_

* * *

Draco had been walking for a few hours, eventually ending up outside of the city and into some of the suburban streets. Instinct told him that Potter would not have been of right mind to try and cause a diversion to lead Draco off of his trail. Potter was afraid, Draco could sense that, and that would mean that he would just run.

It wasn't long before Draco saw Potter, hunched against a tree, staring down at his hands. Draco could sense the fear and uncertainty radiating off of the young man and a small pang of guilt and sadness tugged at his heart. What had caused the Chosen One to fall so hard?


	5. Chapter 5

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot! This chapter made me giggle. Silly James/Harry is adorable.}**

 **Chapter 5**

Draco stood watching Harry Potter for a few minutes as he calculated his next move. He wanted to approach him, but he was afraid that if he did the young man might take off—or worse, fight. So, Draco stood quietly, assessing the situation, before he decided to gently approach.

James looked up as he heard soft footsteps. His eyes went wide as he saw the white-haired man approaching him. He fell backwards onto his hands, skirting away. "G-get away from me… s-stay back!" He croaked out, his voice filled with pure fear.

Draco stopped, his eyes flashing concern quickly. "Potter. Relax. I'm not going to hurt you." His voice was filled with the cool arrogance of a Malfoy, but beneath it all it was laced with actual concern for The Boy Who Lived Again. He didn't move any closer, but he spoke again. "Potter, do you know who I am?"

James wanted to stand up and keep running, but his weak legs and something stronger was rooting him to the spot. His whole body was shaking now and he swore that he could feel the trees around him shaking, too. "S-stop calling me Potter. I'm not who you're looking for!" Maybe this strange man was just mistaken. Maybe he was looking for this Potter fellow and this was all just a misunderstanding.

"What should I call you then?" Draco asked curiously. Maybe his theory was right. Maybe Potter didn't know him. Maybe he didn't even know himself. Was this the work of a memory charm? Draco began to grow concerned.

James didn't answer. He sat back, his eyes wide on the man a mere one hundred feet away from him. He could run, but that would cause the man to chase him again, he feared. And if the man truly wanted to hurt him, he had ample opportunity to do so. James suspected, as he stared at the strange black garments the man was wearing, that he was one of the magical people he heard of on the news.

"James." He said finally after a few moments.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "James who?"

"Black. James Black."

 _Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James Potter, Godson of Sirius Black._ Draco thought to himself. _James Black._ "James," he asked cautiously, moving a little closer resulting in Potter visibly tensing—bracing himself for something, "do you know who I am?"

James nodded. "You're…. you're one of them. One of those magic people... a… a… _wizard…_ " He whispered the last bit, almost afraid to say it. His hands were shaking again and this time he was sure the trees were shaking—leaves falling around him.

Draco looked at the trees and gripped his wand within his robe in case he had to intervene. "Pot—James…" he said slowly, moving closer. "I am a wizard. My name is Draco Malfoy…" he paused to see if that would resonate with the terrified man now almost close enough to touch. It didn't. "But, I promise you that I am not here to hurt you." He crouched down so that he was on Potter's level, keeping a very close eye on the man before him.

James' breath caught in his throat as the white-haired stranger—Draco, as he was called—crouched down in front of him. He couldn't move despite his mind screaming for him to run. The turmoil built within him again and he could feel the same sensation welling up inside of him. Something was about to happen.

Draco could sense it, too. Raw magic. He acted on impulse and before Potter could do anything, he pulled his wand out and cast a stunning spell at Harry just as he felt the magic growing from the young man. Potter's body went limp and he quickly ran to him, grabbing his arm and with a quick 'pop', both men were gone.

* * *

 _A green light was encircling him, the forest around him was disappearing while the green engulfed him. He could hear the high pitched laughter pierce his ears as his body collapsed to the ground…_

It was a dream James had had many times before. A nightmare of sorts that never really changed, always the same quick dream that always had him wake with panic and sweat. This time was no different, unless you take into consideration that he was not in his bed. Rather, he was in a strange room, on a strange bed, unable to move as if his limbs were bound, but they were not. He screamed out, but no sound came out of his mouth.

He tried to look around, but his body was frozen where it was, and he could only see the white ceiling and grey walls on either side of him. He tried to focus and remember how he had gotten here. Slowly, memories began to creep back into his mind as the panic wore off slightly and his mind grew more alert.

* * *

 _Earlier that afternoon._

 _"…not here to hurt you…" and then everything went black._

 _When James awoke, he was in what appeared to be a hospital. He sat up quickly, ready to fight, as a nurse bent over him. "Mr. Potter, please relax…" she said calmly, waving a stick in front of him. As she did, he could feel his body immediately relax and he leaned back into the pillows. "My name isn't Potter. It is Black. James Black," James replied with a goofy smile on his face._

 _"I see, Mr. Black." The nurse smiled warmly as she waved the stick around his face some more, jotting down notes in a note pad._

 _"That's a silly looking stick." James said as she continued to write. He began to look around the room. There were three people in the room. He recognized two of them. One was a tall, muscular red-head covered in freckles. He'd never seen him before. The other was a petite, bushy-haired girl with dark circles under her eyes. The third person was a white-haired man, tall, attractive. This man James stared at for a moment before he pointed at him. "You attacked me!" He said, laughing a little._

 _The white-haired man rolled his eyes and looked at the red-head who was glaring at him. "Calm yourself, Weasel. I did not attack him. He was going to explode, so I stupefied him to get him here." The red-head went to speak, but was cut off by laughter._

 _"Weasel is a silly name!" James was roaring now. The bushy haired girl sighed as the red-head frowned. "Madam Romulus, have you found anything, yet?" She questioned to the nurse. James laughed more as the stick continued to be waved in front of him and around his body._

 _"Nothing. There are no signs of magic causing this." She pocketed her stick and turned to the three standing back. "I believe this is a mere human psychological condition called a dissociative fugue." The bushy haired girl gasped a little as Madame Romulus sighed, "Unfortunately, that means that my medicine will not help. He has to come out of this on his own possibly with the help of muggle medicine. I will send for his discharge paperwork."_

 _"Fugue is a funny word…" James laughed as the three strangers looked at him._

 _"Well, there's your answer. He's a genuine nutter. I say we just take him back to the city, throw a memory charm at him, and let him go about his life." The white-haired man spoke calmly with a slight irritation in his voice._

 _"Draco! We have to do something! This is Harry Potter! He is our friend!" The bushy haired girl exclaimed, her eyes sad and worried. James wondered why she was sad. And who was Harry Potter?_

 _"Yeah, and he saved your sorry life, Malfoy. We can't just leave him to forget his entire life." The red-head was angry. It made James laugh._

 _"Don't talk to me like that, Weasel. I know damn well what he did for me. But did you ever think that maybe his life right now isn't so bad? He had himself a nice looking boyfriend…" The white-haired man sneered at the word 'boyfriend' as if he knew it would bother the red-head. "But if you want to help him, by all means. Do it. Just count me out. I have to babysit muggles this week…" he said with annoyance as he made to leave._

 _"No way, Malfoy. Get back here!" The bushy-haired girl grabbed the man's sleeve as he passed. "The cheering charm is going to wear off and when it does he is going to be terrified again. We need to keep watch over him." She looked over at James who was playing with small glass bottles by his bed._

 _"Then take him home and watch over him, Granger. I don't have time for this." This time it was the red-head who got in the white-haired man's way as he made to leave._

 _The bushy-haired girl narrowed her eyes, "Oh… right. I'll take him home. Ron leaves for the semi-final tournament tomorrow and unless you plan on manning the muggle hotline, I will be working every day for the next foreseeable future."_  
 _The white-haired man stared at the woman with his mouth hanging open slightly. "What are you suggesting, Granger? That I take him home with me?!"_


	6. Chapter 6

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot!}**

 **Chapter 6  
**  
Draco was seated in a tall leather chair across from the bed Potter was on. His head was resting on his hand and he was dosing off. He had been for the last hour or so since night had fallen. He never would have dreamed in a thousand years that the Harry Potter would be sleeping in his bed, yet here they were.

Draco opened his eyes as he heard movement and saw Potter thrashing around a bit. He had opted for a restraint spell and silencing charm since Potter was quite obnoxious under the effects of the cheering charm. Draco sighed, standing up and moving over to the bed.

"Good evening, Potter." He drawled with annoyance. His eyes traveled over to the man's face, noting the extreme panic and terror that was settling in. "I'm sorry to have confined you like this, but I had no other option. If I kept keeping you calm with the cheering charm, you would have ended up straight back into St. Mungo's permanently."

James squirmed as he listened to Draco talk. He remembered the man's name from the hospital. He was terrified of what was happening to him, but somehow he knew that Draco was not there to hurt him. None of this seemed dangerous to him. Just confusing and maddening. He looked at Draco with pleading eyes and mouthed, _let me talk_.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What was that?" He sighed and pulled out his wand, muttering, "Muffliato". "I suppose I can let you talk. If you scream bloody murder, no one can hear you anyway." Draco didn't intend for that last bit to sound so malicious, but he could tell by the look on Potter's face that he had frightened him.

"Potter… er… James," Draco corrected, "I'm not here to hurt you. You will be able to talk soon when the silencing charm wears off. Before that happens, I want you to listen to me and try and understand everything I tell you." He said calmly, but with a slight command to his voice.

James stopped squirming and nodded slowly. At least now he may have some answers to help him get out of this mess.

"I know you think your name is James Black, but it is not. You are Harry James Potter – James is your middle name." James opened his mouth to speak, but Draco held up his hand. "Let me explain this to you, Potter." The blonde sighed, rubbing his temples. He stood up and paced the room.

"You seem to have had what the muggles call a dissociative fugue. Basically, your brain shut down completely due to some pretty intense occurrences in your life and created a new life for you. You have no memory of who you were before that point in time, just of what your life was like since then." He sighed and looked at Potter on the bed.

"Granger thinks that when we announced our presence to the muggles, seeing magic for the first time in five years began to trigger some memories for you, but your mind rejected them and began to create fear instead. I'm sure you have created a fairly believable past for yourself in this life, but none of it is true, Potter and you have nothing to fear from your past—not anymore."

Draco moved to the bed and sat on the edge of it, eyeing the dark haired wizard before him. He was quiet for a moment, as he stared down at Potter who was trying to process what was told to him. He could sense all of the emotions coming off of the man—fear, confusion, and anger—and he couldn't help but feel a bit of pitty. He wished Potter's friends had stuck around, but both of them felt that they would be too emotional to be of any good in this situation—revealing Harry's past to him. Draco would do it tactfully and without any emotion. So, here he was.

"Potter, I need you to understand that the events that made your mind run away were horrific, but ultimately they saved the entire world. You are a hero and there are… a lot of people who miss you." Draco strained at saying the last words, but knew they were true. He rubbed his eyes again, not sure of what to say next, but decided to just rip the Band-Aid off quickly.

"Potter, you're a wizard."

"I-I'm a what?" James' voice croaked and he stared at Draco, his eyes wide. "I… I can't be…" but something in him told him not to argue, that this strange man might actually be on to something.

Draco was expecting screams when his voice returned, but Potter remained quiet, almost in awe. "You are, Harry, and one of the most powerful wizards of our time." He addressed the man with his first name for the first time in years. Harry's mouth was hanging open, unable to speak. Draco eyed him carefully.

"Why are you keeping me here?" The dark-hair man asked with a little more confidence than he had had since Draco had met him in the streets that morning.

Draco shrugged, "If it were up to me, Potter, you would have been back with your boyfriend in your happy muggle life," he sighed deeply, "but it's not up to me. You have friends, family, who all miss you and want you back. The life you are living now is not your life. It's James' life. It is a life built on lies."

James was still pinned to the bed. He struggled a bit, "Let me up." He asked calmly.

Draco eyed him, "Are you going to hex me again?"

James looked confused, "I didn't do anything to you. Please just… let me up. I want to talk to you properly." His voice was calm, but still tinged with fear. Though, Draco could have sworn that he sensed a bit of the Gryffindor bravado woven between the words.

"Very well, but if you try anything funny I'm binding you again and not talking to you until you remember who you are." He said as he pulled out his wand, waving it over Potter.

James felt the pressure slip away from his body and he sat up slowly, watching Draco nervously. He noticed that the blonde had taken off the black robes and replaced them with fitted grey slacks and an emerald green v-neck tee. Had James not been in this current predicament, he might have found this man attractive.

Draco watched cautiously until he was sure Potter wouldn't try anything funny before moving back to his leather chair, crossing his hands in his lap.

"How do you know I'm who you think I am? What if you have the wrong man?" James asked. He wasn't accusatory as if he were on trial, but more curious—as if he knew they didn't have the wrong man, but wanted to know what brought them to that conclusion.

"When you were at St. Mungo's earlier, they confirmed your DNA—human and magical." Draco replied coolly.

"St. Mungo's?" James asked, ignoring the bit about magical DNA.

"It is the hospital for witches and wizards." Draco sighed. He felt bad for whomever had to explain these simple things to Potter when he first discovered he was a wizard. "Besides," he added, "I only know one person in the world who has _that_ scar." He nodded towards Potter's forehead.

James reached up and grazed the scar he had had his whole life. "My scar? What does my scar have to do with anything?"

"Do you know how you got that scar?" Draco asked with a curious glance. He wondered what back story Potter's mind might have created for this.

James opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't. Truth is, he never really questioned his scar. He'd had it his whole life. "No…" he said quietly, looking down. The fact that he didn't know made him a bit nervous, and his mind was beginning to tell him that there was a lot he didn't know. He felt something unravel a bit inside of him as a headache began to brew.

Draco nodded and sighed, "There are a lot of things you don't know, Potter and apparently I am supposed to be the one to tell you all of them." Draco looked to the clock on his nightstand, reading 11:30PM. "But you and I have both had a very long day and neither of us will be up for the pain of dragging you through your past. So, I suggest you sleep—I can give you something for that—and we start fresh in the morning." Draco stood and looked around the room. He spoke before Potter could protest.

"The bathroom is through that door there. You are free to leave this room as I have charmed the rest of the house to keep you safe. The doors are all locked and you cannot unlock them. The windows have been charmed with unbreakable glass so you can't get through them. Any of the rooms I do not want you in have been locked. If you need me, I am in the next room over. You are free to explore the rest of the house. The kitchen is downstairs. Harpy can make you something to eat if you wish. Just ask her." Draco smiled at the last bit, "She's the tiny little creature with pointy ears and big blue eyes—my house elf."

"House elf?" James asked incredulously.

"Goodnight, Potter." Draco said, without explanation as he left through the bedroom door.


	7. Chapter 7

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot!}**

 **Chapter 7**

James was left alone in the strange room without so much as an explanation. He sat frozen in the bed, his mind trying to wrap around the events of the day. Part of him was trying to find a way out of the situation he was in, telling his body to start moving and breaking through walls, but a larger more controlling part of him told him that he needed more answers. Something strange was happening even if he didn't believe a word that Draco had said. HE was a part of it, regardless and needed to stick around if he was going to figure this out.

Sleep was not going to come to him anytime soon, so he cautiously slid out of the bed sometime around 1AM and began slowly moving about the room. He couldn't help but appreciate the room he was in. It looked as if it were barely lived in—almost as if it was there as a prop. What minimal items were there, all had a place and looked as if they were designed to be in that room specifically. James was almost afraid to touch anything.

He moved to the dresser and looked at a photograph of a woman, spinning a small child around in a field. It almost looked as if the picture was moving. Wait. It was moving! James stared in awe at the photograph and picked it up, looking for the battery or cord that might have been powering this. It looked like any old picture frame. He opened up the back and pulled out the paper photograph. Still moving. He shakily put the photograph back in its frame and set it down, stepping back slowly.

He noticed his heart was racing a little from the discovery of the photograph. Magic. Magic was the only explanation, right? With everything he had seen today and what he watched on the news this morning, it had to be real. He knew it was real. It still made him uncomfortable, nauseous even.

He made his way to the bathroom across the hall and splashed some cool water on his face. He spent a good long time looking at his scar in the mirror. He had to have some memory of that scar. He thought hard about it, and was frustrated when he couldn't remember. Frankly, he couldn't remember much of his past. Not since before he moved to London five years ago. He had stories, but there were no memories.

He was an orphan at the age of one, his parents in a horrible accident (from what he was told). He was sent to live with his horrid relatives, though he had no real visual memories—just scars. He was sent to boarding school at eleven, and moved to the city as soon as he graduated. He didn't have many friends growing up and all he knew was that he hated boarding school. What was there to remember?

Suddenly, a vision of a huge castle, lit up across a massive lake, flooded into his memory and it filled his heart with an immense amount of joy. He gripped the sink tightly as the vision faded as quickly as it began. His heart was racing again as he looked into the mirror, his eyes wide. He had never had that memory before. What was that place?

He stepped out of the bathroom, suddenly feeling quite weak. He was also quite hungry, and decided to make his way to the kitchen. At the bottom of the stairs, he saw the kitchen to his left. To the right, there was a door that was ajar, a soft light coming through the gap. Something pulled James in that direction and he entered what appeared to be a library.

Hundreds of books lined floor to ceiling shelves on every wall. There was an oversized leather chair in the center of the room with a fireplace in the middle of the floor casting a soft glow about the room. James made his way into the room, eyeing the tomes on the shelves. He passed by, _Quidditch Through the Ages, Potent Potions and How to Brew 'Em,_ and other titles he did not recognize. He spotted a thick volume on a shelf of its own titled, _Hogwarts, a History_. His stomach lurched a bit with excitement and familiarity.

His mind took over again, much like it did in the bathroom, and he was standing in a large foyer surrounded by statues, candles, and others like him in long black robes. A distinguished woman in emerald robes was standing in front of the crowd. "Welcome to Hogwarts", she greeted the group.

James was back in the library, the memory gone and the book was now in his hands. When did he do that? He shakily held the heavy book and moved with it to sit on the large chair. He ran his fingers over the spine and opened the book cautiously—almost afraid of what might be inside. He flipped the pages, ultimately landing at the index at the end. He read through some of the names until his eyes fell on _Potter, Harry James_. His heartbeat was racing as he turned to the pages.

 _-Harry James Potter, July 31, 1980. Also known as, The Boy Who Lived, The Boy Who Lived Again, The Boy Who Defeated the Dark Lord._

 ** _Harry James Potter_** _was a half-blood wizard, the only child and son of James and Lily Potter (née Evans), and one of the most famous wizards of modern times. In what proved to be a vain attempt to circumvent a prophecy that stated a boy born at the end of July of 1980 could be able to defeat him which could have meant Neville Longbottom, Lord Voldemort attempted to murder him when he was only a year and three months old. Voldemort murdered Harry's parents as they tried to protect him, shortly before attacking Harry himself. This early, unsuccessful attempt to vanquish Harry led to Voldemort's first downfall, marking the end of the First Wizarding Warand to Harry henceforth being known as the "Boy Who Lived". One consequence of Lily's loving sacrifice was that her orphaned son had to be raised by her only remaining blood relative. Harry was raised by his Muggle aunt Petunia Dursley in a home where he was neither welcomed nor nurtured, but would be protected from Lord Voldemort, at least until he was seventeen years old only because of a powerful charm Albus Dumbledore made. As the only known survivor of the Killing Curse (up to that point) Harry was already famous before he arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in 1991._

 _Early on his eleventh birthday, Harry learned that he was a wizard via Hagrid, keeper of the keys. He began attending Hogwarts in 1991 and was Sorted into Gryffindor House. While at school, Harry became best friends with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and later became the youngest Quidditch Seeker in over a century and eventually the captain of his house's team, winning two Quidditch Cups. He became even better known in his early years for protecting the Philosopher's Stone from Voldemort and saving Ron's sister Ginny Weasley from the Chamber of Secrets. In his fourth year at Hogwarts, Harry won the Triwizard Tournament, although the competition ended with the tragic death of Cedric Diggory and the return of Lord Voldemort though the Ministry refused to accept it. The next school year, Harry reluctantly taught and led Dumbledore's Army and fought in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, during which he lost his godfather, Sirius Black._

 _Harry played a significant role in many other battles of the Second Wizarding War and hunted down and destroyed Voldemort's Horcruxes along with Ron and Hermione. During the Battle of Hogwarts he personally witnessed the deaths of Severus Snape and Fred Weasley, and learned that Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Colin Creevey, and many others had fallen in battle as well. He encountered Voldemort and sacrificed himself, knowing that his doing so was the only way to destroy the fragment of Voldemort's soul that was inside of him. In limbo, after Voldemort cursed him in the forest clearing, Albus Dumbledore gave Harry advice and background information on the Dark Lord. When told he could choose to live or to "move on", Harry chose to live. After he awoke he confronted Voldemort and defeated him once and for all._

 _Harry was also notable for being the only known Master of Death, having united the three Deathly Hallows at the mere age of only seventeen.*_

 _After the war, Harry disappeared from the wizarding world. The Ministry of Magic spent a year searching for the wizard, but to no avail. Harry Potter is presently presumed alive and well—investigators of the Ministry do not suspect foul play was cause for his disappearance.-_

James stared at the text, reading it over and over again. He could feel his pulse in his fingertips as his finger traced the photograph of himself embedded within the text. The photograph was taken during what appeared to be a press conference. He was wearing black robes with a medal pinned to them. He was smiling, but there was deep sadness in his eyes.

His mind drifted away as more visions began to plague him. Some were quick—such as visions of vast meals surrounded by people in a giant hall. Some were longer, the details blurry—such as a vision of a room filled with many robed individuals. He was standing at a podium, speaking in defense of Draco Malfoy.

These visions plagued him all night in a dream like state until they began to morph into his nightmare. This time, however, the nightmare was more clear—as if he were watching a movie.

 _The woods were dark. The smell of smoke and copper were in the air. His hands were covered in dirt and blood. He looked down to see a small stone fall from his fingers as he began to walk slowly towards the clearing just ahead._

 _He saw a man, no, a monster standing before him addressing a group of anxious wizards. He was tall and frail looking. He had no hair on his head, only thick, scaly, white skin that was stretched over the form of a man. When he turned, his eyes were red and he had no nose—only slits where one should be. His lips were thin and cracked, hiding what appeared to be sharp, decaying teeth._

 _"I thought he would come." The monster hissed with a sadness in his voice. It sent a chill through Harry, yet he stepped forward into the clearing. Amazingly, there was no fear within him—just a quiet determination. He was resolute in his stance as the monster spoke to him._

 _"Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. Come to die." It was a command, not a question._

 _They stood staring at each other, Harry and the monster, for what seemed like an eternity until finally, the monster shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"_

 _The green light encompassed Harry and he let out a scream as he fell to the ground and his dream faded away._

* * *

* Harry's biography was taken from Harry Potter Wikia


	8. Chapter 8

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot! You will note in this chapter, James begins to refer to himself as Harry...}**

 **Chapter 8  
** _  
_"Potter!"

A hand was on him, shaking him. He jumped up, _Hogwarts a History_ flying to the floor, narrowly missing the fireplace. The sun was peeking through the curtains of the library, casting rays onto Draco's face, which was shrouded with worry.

The dark-haired man stood shaking on the other side of the chair, staring wide eyed at Draco—who was shirtless in a pair of green silk pajama pants. His face was glistening with sweat and his hands were clammy. He pointed at the book with a shaking hand, "Is it true?" his voice was hoarse, quiet, and trembling.

Draco nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off of the man, "Every word." He was watching Potter closely, sensing the man's magic spinning out of control. His hand gripped his wand carefully and discretely at his side.

"I want to go home," James demanded.

"Home where?" Draco questioned. Did he remember where his true home was?

"My apartment! In the city! Let me go." Potter's voice was frantic now and Draco knew that if he didn't do something soon, the man would explode again.

"I'm not sure that is a good idea—"

"—you can't keep me here forever!"

"You're unstable. I can feel your magic, Potter. It is strong and wild. You could hurt someone…" Draco said emphasizing the last bit.

"I wouldn't—" James stammered with wide eyes.

"No, not intentionally. But wild magic is not safe. You saw what happened in the street yesterday."

James' mouth hung open a little at the mention of yesterday. So that was him that sent Draco flying through the air. Without consciously thinking about it, he held his hands up again in front of him the same way that he had done the day before.

Draco narrowed his eyes, gripping his wand, "Potter…" he warned. He had seen that look before. The Gryffindor inside of him was showing his bravado as he stood, ready to fight.

"Let me go, Draco. I—I'll do it again!" James had no idea what he planned on doing, but if he had done it once before, maybe just thinking about it would make it happen again. He squinted his eyes a little and willed his body to push Draco back. His arms were shaking, but not from the forces building up within him, but rather from the tension in his muscles from trying so hard.

Draco couldn't help it. He laughed, relaxing his glance a little. "Okay. Okay! Now that's funny!"

James glared at the man, "I'm not being funny! I'm trying… to… hurt… you…" he said through gritted teeth as Draco relaxed completely, moving to pick up the book from the floor and place it back on the shelf. By the time Draco had made it back to the chair, sitting down, James had exhausted himself trying to make whatever magic was inside of him work. He sighed deeply, sitting down on the floor, bringing his knees to his chest.

The two men remained silent for quite some time. James stared at nothing in the room as he mulled over his thoughts. He knew that Draco was right. He was dangerous. He sent a perfect stranger flying through the air. Thank God it was Draco and not Liam. What would he have done if he hurt Liam?

Draco had been watching Potter the entire time. He could no longer sense the raw magic flaring up inside of him. Instead, he could sense some human emotions radiating off of him.

"We need to start working on getting your memories back, Potter." Draco said simply. He wasn't great with the emotions. He was a practical man with a goal—get Potter out of his house. It's not that he hated Potter. That was actually far from the truth. But, it wasn't that he liked him either. To him, Potter was just that—Harry Potter, savior of the world. He felt that he had a duty to pay to him for all of his kindness during the war, and that was what he was doing.

James was quiet for a bit longer, leading Draco to assume he wasn't heard. As Draco was about to speak again, James cut him off. "I remembered a castle." He said quietly, "I'm going to assume it was… Hog…warts?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You remembered Hogwarts. When? Just now?"

James shook his head, "No, last night. It just… it hit me. Out of the blue. I was… I was trying to remember my life before I came to London…" he trailed off.

"And?" Draco urged Potter to continue. Maybe he could find something to latch onto and work with it.

James shrugged, "Nothing. I have no memories." He sounded cold when he spoke, the tone of his voice sent a strange shiver through Draco.

"You have memories, Potter," Draco spoke in a much softer tone than he typically spoke with, "we just have to find them."

The men sat in silence again for quite some time. James seemed content in his thoughts while Draco picked up a book off of the end table after a while and began reading. The rays of the sun were no longer casting their warmth into the room and Draco's stomach began to growl. They must have been in the library for a few hours and it was nearing lunch. He set his book down on the table, casting a glance at Potter who was staring ahead in the same place he had been when he began reading. He felt a bit of sadness looking at the scene. Oh how the mighty fall. Here was The Boy Who Lived Again, The Boy Who Defeated the Dark Lord, broken in pieces on his library floor.

"Potter?" Draco spoke softly, so as not to startle the man from his thoughts. To his surprise, the dark-haired man looked up immediately. "Hey, you responded to 'Potter" Draco said, amused.

"Well, you are telling me that is my name. The book is telling me that is my name. I suppose I should learn to respond to it." Harry's voice was still quite dark, but there was something else there—a quiet determination and hope.

Draco couldn't help the smile that came across his face at this development. It was, for the first time in twenty-four hours, a step in the right direction. "Right. Well, Potter," his voice was cool again, "I don't know about you, but I am famished. I am going to have Harpy make us some lunch. Why don't you head upstairs and shower. You can wear some of my spare garments I store in the spare room. Mostly muggle clothes. Leave your dirty ones on the bed and Harpy will have them laundered for you."

Harry didn't object. A shower sounded nice, and it might help him clear some of his thoughts.

* * *

 _There were piles of miscellaneous items everywhere—tens of feet high and as far as his eyes could see. He was anxiously looking around for the source of the screaming until he saw the glow that was chasing his friend. "Ron!" He yelled._

 _"RUN!" The red-head bellowed grabbing the bushy-haired girl's hand and taking off. The three of them ran. Every corner they turned led to another billow of flames coming at them. It seemed as if they were trapped. Then, Harry and Ron both looked over and spotted a row of brooms. It was as if the Room created them just for this occasion. Harry, Ron, and the bushy-haired girl climbed onto the brooms, and flew above the fiendfyre._

 _Harry looked around for the exit and as they all flew in succession, he spotted Draco and his goons—well, now it was one less. They were climbing to safety at the top of a pile of junk. "We have to save them!" he called back behind him, already turning around._

 _"You can't be serious!" the red-head exclaimed as the bushy-haired witch flew past him. He reluctantly turned around._

 _It took a few passes, but Harry was able to grab Draco while Ron grabbed his friend. Harry could feel the blonde gripping his waste tightly as they flew out of the Room of Requirement. Just at the exit, his broom caught something and they tumbled to the ground, rolling over top of one another. Just briefly, Harry looked over and met Draco's glance. His breath caught in his throat as he took in the expression on Draco's face. It was just a split second before they were both up and Draco was running away leaving Harry to deal with the diadem, but he swore in that second he had connected on some level with Draco._

His hands were gripping a long shaft of wood tightly. He looked down and realized he was holding a broom as if his life depended on it. He put the broom back in Draco's closet, and pulled out an outfit to wear. The memory came to him so readily. He wondered why this particular memory came to him at that time. It was almost like his mind was releasing these snippets of his life when he was ready for them. He sighed as he slipped on a pair of black slacks that fit perfectly, and a black crew tee that was just a little too tight around his muscles. He ran his fingers through his damp, shaggy black hair—tousling it gently—before he made his way down into the kitchen.


	9. Chapter 9

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot!}**

 **Chapter 9**

Harry heard Draco chatting to someone as he stepped towards the kitchen, and hung back slightly so as not to interrupt.

"Will Master Draco's friend be liking some treacle tart? Master Draco says it is his favorite!" The voice was high pitched and squeaky. Harry wondered two things: first, who did that voice belong to? From what he could tell, Draco lived alone. Secondly, how did Draco know what his favorite dessert was?

He slowly walked towards the kitchen. The room was rustic and large, probably the size of the library. The cabinets and all the furniture looked as if they were made out of an old barn, but all of the appliances were brand new and top-of-the-line. The room was light, but naturally so, as there were skylights and big windows everywhere.

Draco looked up as Potter entered the room, and he felt his heart flutter just a little. Draco's clothes were just slightly too small—not enough where it looked foolish, but enough to make the fabric cling to every defined muscle. Sure, Potter had lost some definition over the years, but Draco actually thought that worked to his advantage. He shook his head to clear the inappropriate thoughts in his mind and was relived that Harry did not catch him staring. It appeared that Potter was too focused on the house elf.

She was a petite creature with tennis-ball eyes and covered in shabby rags. Harry watched her as she carefully placed a bouquet of roses into the center of the table and smiled politely as Harry entered the room, bowing down. "Master Draco has told me you are the great Harry Potter. Harpy is at your service." The house elf cooed.

Harry stood there, in awe of the little elf. He wasn't scared, he wasn't fascinated. He felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and remembrance. Before he realized it, he was crying. Silent tears were streaming down his face as he stared at the little elf.

"Master Draco, Harpy didn't say anything!" her voice seemed panicked and Draco looked over to Potter, his face quickly changing from indifference to concern. "Harpy, this is not your fault. Please, you may tend to the laundry now." He said quickly, ushering her from the room.

Draco stood and went to Potter. "You're remembering something…" he observed.

Harry was quiet for a moment, but nodded slowly. "Dobby." He whispered, his heart breaking a little as he did. This time, the memory came to him as it would to any other normal human. He was still in the present, but the memory was spinning around in his mind along with his present thoughts. He could see the house elf jumping in front of him. He could see himself digging a hole in the sand. He watched himself burry his friend all from the comfort of Draco's kitchen.

"He saved my life…" He said quietly, still standing and staring in disbelief.

Draco froze a little, wincing at the mention of his old house elf. He knew exactly what Harry was remembering. Draco was there. He shook his head a little, knocking the thoughts away and carefully reached a hand out to Potter's arm. "Hey, Potter. Come on. Sit down and try and get some food into your system." It wasn't the most comforting thing he could have said in that moment, seeing as thought the man had just remembered a terrible death, but he thought his tone was quite soft and appealing and he deserved credit for that at least.

Harry nodded and followed Draco to the table, sitting across from him. His mind was starting to clear already as he wiped the remains of tears from his eyes. He focused down on the table where there were a few dishes for lunch—corned beef sandwiches, a lite salad with a vinaigrette, and his favorite, treacle tart. Apparently some memories could never be lost; James was known for devouring the entire treacle tart at the Quid Row holiday party. Harry began to slowly put food onto his plate. Draco watched carefully, making sure Potter was recovering from that memory, before helping himself to food.

They ate in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Harry barely jumped when the food magically disappeared from the table after they had finished. He had been thinking about his memory earlier—the one in the fire. He couldn't shake the feeling of Draco's hands around his waist and the look they shared before parting ways. Draco had been concerned for him here as he was helping to get his memories back, but Harry thought that was more obligation than true concern. He was always so cool with him, and referred to him as Potter with such a harshness in his tones.

After quite the silence, Harry looked at Draco and spoke up. "Why do you call me Potter?"

Draco looked up at him, his eyes confused. "We had this conversation. That is your name. You are not James—"

"I know my name is not James Black." Harry sighed a little, "I mean why do you call me Potter instead of Harry." He looked into Draco's eyes, searching for an answer.

Draco could feel his glance boring into him and it made him squirm a little. He averted his eyes and shrugged, tugging at the hem of his pajama pants. "Habit, I suppose."

Harry was quiet and Draco sensed that might not have been the answer that the young man was looking for. Draco knew that in good time, Harry would remember why they never shared first names—he would remember their bitter rivalry and all would be well with the world again. That thought pained him more than he thought it would. However, he needed Potter to remember on his own—Draco was not about to share their past with him quite yet.

"Well, we were never the best of friends in school, Potter. Rivals if you will." He thought that would do.

Harry looked at him with an understanding look, but he continued to question on. "We're not rivals now, though, are we? I mean you know my favorite dessert..."

Draco smirked, "Keep thine enemies close," but his face turned serious as he answered honestly. "No, I suppose we are not currently rivals." He looked at Potter curiously. The young man was quite stoic in this moment and he was having a hard time assessing what he was thinking behind those green eyes—what he was feeling. It made him nervous.

"So," Harry said simply, "Call me Harry, then."

Draco stared at Potter for a long while, a sad look crossing over his features. "I'm not sure it is that easy." He sighed as he looked at Potter's face which looked dejected and hurt. It almost seemed as if The Chosen One was trying to be friends with Draco. Another surge of excitement tickled his veins at that thought.

Draco reached across the table to the bouquet of roses. He plucked one from the vase and pushed it in front of the man across from him. "What would you call this?"

Harry stared in confusion at the rose in front of him. "A rose…" he answered slowly, eyeing Draco for more of an explanation.

Draco smiled and nodded. "Of course. A rose. It has been a rose your entire life." Potter nodded, but didn't seem to be catching on.

"Well what if I told you that in our world—the wizarding world—we call this a…" he gestured to the air as he made up a word in his head, "… Timtam."

Harry looked at Draco with an amused glance. He understood now what Draco was trying to say. Harry was the Timtam. Draco had always called Harry by his last name because it was ingrained into him for whatever reason. It wasn't just that it was habit and easy to break—it was as if it felt wrong to refer to him as something else.

"Well," Harry mused, a soft smile crossing his lips, "I would tell you that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

Draco couldn't help the warmth that filled his stomach when the dark-haired wizard spoke. First, it was the first real smile he had seen from the young man in the last day and it made him feel quite happy. Second, he understood what Potter was trying to tell him—to put the past behind them and start fresh. To call him by his first name wouldn't negate what had happened-they would still have the past of Potter and Malfoy-but it would give them a new opportunity to start a friendship.

Draco was silent for a moment, unsure how to respond. He had wanted to be friends with Harry Potter since the day he met him in the robe shop. His bitter hatred for the boy was merely ignited by the rejection he felt when Harry refused his friendship. Of course, the events over their time at Hogwarts did not make things any easier, but Draco was always secretly sad that he could never befriend the Great Harry Potter-whether it be due to childish prejudice or due to his family connection to the Dark Lord.

Harry looked at the blonde, trying to read him. It was difficult as Draco did not wear his emotions on his sleeve. "I call you Draco, do I not?" Harry questioned, and this time he was able to read the pain that darkened Draco's features.

"Only because you cannot remember why you shouldn't…" the blonde spoke quietly, not looking at him.

"Do you want me to remember?" Harry asked tentatively, nervousness weaving through his words.

"No." Draco said instantly in almost a whisper. He looked up at Potter for a moment, his eyes filled with an immense amount of sadness and regret. He never wanted Harry to remember their past. Most days, he barely wanted to remember it.

They sat in an odd, but comforting silence, as each man did what they did best—take all of the pain and emotion they felt and shoved it into the little compartment hidden somewhere deep in the recesses of the mind. When the air had cleared just a bit, Draco looked up at Potter with a curious look in his eye.

"Did you quote Romeo and Juliet?" He asked incredulously, a grin spreading across his face.

Harry laughed, "I suppose I did."

Draco joined in the laughter. "You're something else, Potter…" he said, this time the name did not sound as harsh as it once was.


	10. Chapter 10

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot!}**

 **Chapter 10**

"If I let you go outside, do you promise not to take off?" Draco eyed Potter cautiously. The two men had just finished lunch and Potter had expressed a desire to call his boyfriend—though, Potter had made it a point to tell Draco that the man he saw with him was not his boyfriend.

Harry nodded, "I told you. I'm not going anywhere…" He had come to the realization that he wanted memories of his life. He wanted to know who Harry Potter was—no matter how tragic the life had to have been to make him run away from it all. He loved his life as James for it was simple, but it was a lie. He wanted the truth and the only way he was going to get it e was by staying with Draco.

Draco nodded, "Very well, I have to make a call anyway." He pulled his wand out of his pants and pointed it to the door in the kitchen that led out into the garden, "Alohamora," he said, eliciting a small click from the door.

Harry jumped a little as the spell was cast. He could feel the magic pass him, but instead of the fear he once felt, he felt a bit of excitement. He turned to ask Draco what that was, but the man was already gone. He opened the door and stepped out into the garden.

The yard was small, but beautiful. There was a six foot privacy fence around the perimeter, the wood covered with sweeping vines. There was a willow tree in the back corner, draping over into the yard and casting a pleasant shade over a small pond. There were wildflowers speckled through the grass. Harry swore he saw a very creepy gnome statue when he first came out, but it was gone now.

He took his cell phone from the back of his pocket. 70 text messages and 20 missed calls. He cleared them all and dialed Liam.

"James! Is that you?" Liam's voice was frantic, as he waited for a response.

Harry was quiet for a moment before smiling a little, "It's me."

"Gabby! It's him! He's okay!" Liam called away from the receiver, "You are okay, right?" He asked James quietly.

Harry frowned a little. Liam was so worried about him, it made him feel guilty. "I'm fine, Liam. Really. I'm fine."

"Where are you? When are you coming home?"

Harry sighed, "I'm—" well, truth be told, he didn't know where he was, "I'm not coming home Liam, but I am safe."

Liam laughed, "What do you mean you're not coming home. Where are you?" His voice was a bit strained.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck as he paced around the garden, "Look, I can't really explain what is going on, but there is something that I need to take care of, and I cannot be home to do it. Just… just know that I am okay and I promise I will call you as soon as I get this figured out."

Liam began talking quickly into the phone, "James. What are you talking about? What are you doing? Where are you? When will you be home?"

Harry cut him off, "Liam. Liam! Enough. I don't know when I will be home. In fact, I'm putting you in charge of the restaurant. Tell Mr. Rosenbaum that I am sorry, but I will not be returning to the restaurant. You are the new head chef, Liam."

Liam was quiet finally and for a second Harry thought he had lost the call.

"You promise that you'd tell me if you could?" Liam questioned softly.

It broke Harry's heart. He loved Liam. Liam was his first friend, his partner at the restaurant, and Harry absolutely had feelings for the man. But, he couldn't drag Liam through this—not when Harry barely knew who he was. "I promise, Liam. With all my heart."

Liam sighed, "Okay. I will leave you alone. I'm not happy about it, but I trust you. Goodbye, James."

The phone disconnected and Harry sighed, "Goodbye, Liam."

* * *

Draco leaned casually over the fireplace, the flames licking his face as he spoke.

"He's fine, Granger. I thought you trusted me with this." His voice was cool with a mild annoyance. They were the ones who made him take Potter into his home.

Hermione sat on the edge of the leather couch in the office. There were dark circles under her eyes as if she had been up all night. She sighed, "I'm just so worried, Draco. I want to come see him."

Draco shook his head, "Absolutely not, Granger." His voice held a strange tone of authority laced with protection. "Potter is not ready for it. He barely knows his own name and he just read his entire biography less than twenty-four hours ago. He's not ready for an emotional reunion with his friends."

Hermione sighed, "I know. You're right, I just…" she sighed, "I wish there was something I could do to help him."

Draco mused for a moment, "You know, there might be something you could do. Do you have some time to go to the burrow?"

* * *

Harry gently closed the kitchen door behind him. There was no sign of Draco anywhere. He sighed and exited the kitchen. He could hear his voice coming from the library, and he crossed the foyer into that direction.

"I'll send Strix. He should be up to the task." Harry heard Draco speak, but he didn't hear a response. He must still be on the phone. He entered quietly into the library. His eyes widened as he saw the man with his head buried in the fire.

"DRACO!" He yelled loudly, running to the blonde and pulling him back. He pushed him onto the floor and quickly pulled his shirt off so he could use it to put out the flames.

"Umph!" Draco was thrown from the fire and shoved onto his back. He looked up to see Potter, taking his shirt off. "Potter! What are you doing?!" His eyes were wide as he tried shoving the dark-haired man off of him.

Harry looked down as Draco yelled, pushing at him. Where did the flames go? He expected the man's face to be half gone by this point. Instead it was perfectly fine. Harry was straddling, a perfectly fine Draco with his shirt off and he was too dumbfounded to move. His mouth was half open as he stared at Draco, "But you… I saw… in the fire!" He stammered.

Draco shoved harder this time, knocking Potter back. His face was flushed, which he chalked up to the adrenaline and frustration coursing through him. "I told you I was making a call!" Draco's voice was scolding as he stood up, hovering over Potter. It suddenly occurred to him that the man had no idea what that entailed in this world. He sighed, offering a hand to the dark-haired man, pulling him up.

"It's called the floo network. It is how we communicate with one another and one of our means of travel." Draco said, more calmly than before.

Harry stood, staring between Draco and the fireplace. He was about to ask how it was possible, but he reminded himself that the blonde was a wizard—hell, _he_ was apparently a wizard—and magic could explain a lot of the unexplained. He suddenly felt very foolish and his face was flushed from embarrassment.

Draco bit his lip a little, the awkward moment made only more so with Potter's torso exposed. "Put on your shirt, Potter. We have work to do." Draco spoke with his usual tone, but fumbled over the words slightly. He tried not to stare as the dark-haired man covered himself back up with the tight fitted tee.

Draco ushered for Harry to sit down on the chair as he moved to the bookshelves. He really had no idea what he was doing, so he turned to the things that never betrayed him—the books. He searched the tomes for moments before he heard Potter speak up.

"What are we doing?" Harry asked quietly, the embarrassment still clear in his voice.

Draco sighed, "I am trying to find something to help you get some of your memories back." Draco had plenty of books, but truth be told, he had no idea how to make someone remember something they worked so hard to forget.

"Tell me about the first time we met." Harry spoke softly.

Draco turned around, staring at Potter. A lump formed in his throat. "The first time we met? Why?" Draco didn't want to get into their torrid relationship right now, or ever for that matter. He'd rather be long gone when Potter remembered that.

"Well, because right now you're my only connection to this life and I want to know how you fit in." Harry said simply. He could sense that there was a history—his only two memories of Draco (saving him from the fiendfyre and vouching for him in the court) were filled with so many conflicting emotions that he knew this man played a massive role in his life.

Draco couldn't deny that Potter was correct and he sighed, "It was before our first year. I was being fitted for robes in Madam Malkins and you had come in for your fitting as well." Draco paced around the room a bit. "I didn't know who you were then—"

"—Of course you didn't, we had just met." Harry said, simply.

Draco laughed a little, "No, I mean I didn't know you were Harry Potter." Draco saw the confused look on Potter's face and he explained, "Everyone knew who you were, Potter. You were famous at only a year old for ending the First Wizarding War."

Harry's eyes widened as he remembered that bit of trivia from the book he had read last night. "Lord Voldemort…" he whispered and he would've sworn that he felt a twinge where his scar was.

Draco visibly shivered at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. "Yes. Him." Draco cleared his throat a little and continued, "I didn't know who you were and I swore I prattled on about every stupid thing I could have thought of." Draco always wondered if he had known who he was standing next to, he might have made an attempt to not be so daft—though, he was only eleven.

As Draco spoke, Harry could see the scene play out in his mind. He could almost hear Draco's juvenile voice talking about Mudbloods and "that oaf, Hagrid"—the memory made him a little sick to his stomach.

"I didn't like you." Harry said coldly, though the coldness was more directed at himself than at Draco.

Draco smiled sadly, "For good reason. I was not the most welcoming child."

Harry curled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he was deep in thought. The memory played out a little longer in his mind. He remembered leaving the shop with a bitter taste in his mouth, finding a very giant man holding an owl out to him. His mind skipped around to the castle he remembered and the giant hall where he was surrounded by his peers. He was next to a gangly, red-head—who very closely resembled the man from the hospital yesterday—as he was approached by the young Draco.

 _"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."_

Harry replayed the memory over and over again as the two men sat in silence in the library. He had rejected Draco's offer—albeit a arrogant one—of friendship. He wondered to himself if that was when the rivalry began. Was it merely the simple rejection of a handshake? Surely, something that simple could easily be repaired? Harry vowed to try and gain Draco's friendship while he tried to regain the part of himself that was lost.


	11. Chapter 11

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot!}**

 **Chapter 11**

The afternoon was settling in and Draco had let Potter get lost in his thoughts. He know that there was a lot going on in his head, and it wasn't his place to push. Not quite yet. It had been at least a few hours before the Chosen One spoke again.

"If I'm going to be staying here, I am going to need some clothes," Harry said quietly. He had really thought of the situation he was in. He couldn't rightly go back to his apartment and life his life as it was. He wasn't even sure it was his life anymore and Draco was right; if things got out of control again, Harry's raw magic could really hurt someone.

Draco glanced from the edition of the Prophet he was reading over to Potter, "I suppose you're right. We can go to your apartment if you'd like."

Harry's eyes lit up. Something normal. Something familiar. "I would." His demeanor had changed and he was smiling a little.

Draco smiled at the dark-haired man, liking the change in his emotions—Potter's happiness was a bit contagious. "Alright, we can go now, if you'd like." He asked for the man's address and oddly enough for a description of the area. "I know where that is." He walked over to the man and placed a hand on his arm, pulling it back almost immediately as he remembered a crucial detail.

"I probably should explain that travel is a bit different in the wizarding world." He said, his eyes searching Potter's for any sign of fear. "I need you to trust me. Can you trust me?"

Harry stared at Draco a bit, wondering what was about to happen. He trusted Draco, about as much as he could in the current situation. Frankly, he had no choice but to trust Draco—he was trying to help him. "I trust you." He said quietly.

Without any warning, Draco placed his hand on Potter's arm, pulling him in a little too close for comfort. There was a loud pop and they were gone.

The sensation Harry felt was horrific. He felt as if his body was being forced through the tiniest rubber tube, barely large enough for him to pass let alone he and Draco. He instantly became nauseous and in a second, and with another loud pop, they were standing in the park across from his apartment. A few passing people jumped at the sound and sudden appearance of two people, but it wasn't the first time they had seen it in the last few days.

As they landed, Draco looked at Potter who was extremely pale and tinged with green. "You'll get used to it," he said with a grin.

"I'd rather never experience that again…" Harry said quietly as he gathered his bearings. When he was steady enough to move, he led Draco across the street to his building. He knew it was safe to be back without worrying about Liam showing up because Liam was manning the restaurant today.

Harry led the blonde to the third floor and pulled his keys out from his pocket. He unlocked the door and invited Draco in. His apartment was a large loft. The walls were all brick and the floors were a light hard-wood. There was exposed piping in the tall ceilings. Harry liked the apartment not for its style, but more for the kitchen it came with; the kitchen was huge with high-end appliances perfect for a chef. An added bonus was that his balcony, off of the kitchen, had an amazing view of the city.

Draco took in the apartment and he couldn't help the grin that overcame his face. The real Harry Potter was still somewhere inside of James because the entire apartment was decorated with red and gold accents. Gryffindor colors. Draco moved around as Potter packed a large duffel bag from his closet. He took note of some of the books on a small shelf in the living area—a various collection of classic novels. Potter was well read it seemed. Or maybe that was all James. He wondered how much of James' life was created from scratch and how much were elements of the Boy Who Lived.

When Harry was done packing up some items—mostly clothes and toiletries—he set the bag down by the front door as his stomach rumbled. "Hey, I'm quite hungry. Do you want me to make us something to eat?"

Draco turned from the bookshelf and shrugged. Now that he thought about it, he was quite hungry himself. "That would be fine." He moved to the kitchen with Potter and sat on one of the bar stools at the large island. He watched the man move through the kitchen with a fluidity and comfort that he hadn't seen since he had been with him. This was Potter's comfort zone—in the kitchen. That realization made Draco feel a strange curiosity and he found himself wanting to know more about the man—not Harry Potter—but this man in front of him. Harry James.

"You can cook." Draco said with an amused tone.

Harry laughed as he quickly diced some onion to perfection, sliding them into a pan with some lard to sweat. "I am a chef."

That impressed Draco greatly. He could cook, sure, but it was simple cooking—grilling and reheating mostly with the aid of magic. You didn't develop this level of skill when you had a house elf. He watched Potter throw some steak into one pan and scallops into another as he moved onto potatoes and vegetables. "How did you learn you could cook?" Draco asked as he leaned back on the stool to get a better view of Potter in his element.

Harry threw a towel over his shoulder as he stirred his potatoes. "Well, when I moved to London, I was strapped for cash. I walked past this restaurant and they were hiring." He drained the asparagus that he had been steaming and stepped back from the steam that came out of the sink. "I started as a busboy, but filled in one day for the sous chef and since then I became a sort of apprentice. I became head chef within two years." He said all this casually, but Draco was quite impressed. Though, he did find it odd that Potter was so good at cooking, but was dismal at Potions.

Harry and Draco traded questions back and forth through dinner's preparation. Mainly trivial things about work. Harry had learned that Draco had always wanted to be in the medical profession, a healer as they called it. Draco learned that Harry was a perfectionist in his work and if a dish did not turn out exactly as he had planned for, he would toss it and start fresh.

Harry plated dinner and poured two glasses of Chianti, setting at the island next to Draco. Draco stared down at the perfectly plated dish, amazed at the quality. "Potter, this looks fabulous." He said amazed as he took his first bite, stifling a moan of pleasure.

Harry laughed, "Nothing too fancy." He began to eat his own, thinking that in this moment, he felt normal for the first time in two days.

He paid close attention to the man to his right, taking note of some of the details of his face—a crisp profile with a strong jaw, though slight like the man's framework. His eyes were such an unnatural shade of grey that Harry was almost always afraid to stare directly at them, feeling transfixed by the gaze. The blonde had a beauty to him that Harry could appreciate on a simply aesthetic level. What really intrigued him, however, was the darkness that sat just behind those silver orbs. He could feel it when Draco spoke and he could see it as he looked at him now. There were so many secrets and so much pain deep within the man—that in itself held its own beauty. If the memories Harry had seen were true—and he and Draco had really known one another—he wondered if he had been this transfixed then.

During their conversations, Draco paid close attention to the way Potter spoke. He knew that in this moment, there was no memory of all of the bad things that had happened in his life, but he could hear the sadness in his voice—even at his happiest and most comfortable here in the home cooking a meal. Draco felt guilt and a strange sense of adoration that Potter felt these things yet still managed to go about his life. Granted, he was suffering now and his mind was not in the right state, but even in their school days, the young Gryffindor endured so much that would have sent Draco running. His strength and courage was not lost on the blonde, and he respected him for it.

After the meal, Harry moved to the sink to begin cleaning dishes. Draco came up behind him and pulled out his wand, "Please, allow me." He said, waving his wand and casting a quick cleaning spell. Within seconds all of the dishes were spotless and Draco was stacking them neatly next to the sink.

Harry laughed a little as he stepped back to watch. "Okay, I have to admit, that kind of magic is quite useful."


	12. Chapter 12

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot! Also, UGH FINALLY. We are slowly but surely getting to H/D forever!}**

 **Chapter 12**

Draco and Harry apparated back to Draco's home. As they landed in the front yard, Harry took less time to stabilize himself. He chalked that up to the wine that was in his system from dinner. The sun was beginning to set and Harry slung his duffel over his shoulder as they made their way to the front door.

Draco stopped noticing a medium sized parcel on the front porch. He bent to pick it up, as if it weighed nothing. Harry watched curiously and followed Draco into the house.

Once inside, Harry took his bag upstairs and Draco went into the library with the package, opening it to confirm that it was from Hermione. Harry came downstairs, within a few minutes to find Draco curiously looking into the box, but almost afraid to touch anything. He jumped a little when the dark-haired man walked in.

"Potter. We have some work to do." He said coolly, motioning the man over.

Harry looked at the blonde quizzically, but approached anyway. "What's in the box?" he asked as he sat down next to the blonde on the floor.

Draco looked at Potter, "Do you remember the woman from the hospital yesterday? The one I was talking to?" Harry nodded. "Good. I had her send some things that I thought might help you get your memories back."

For some reason, the thought of that made Harry's stomach churn. He was nervous. Draco sensed the nerves, but decided to proceed anyway. This had to be done, for Potter's sake.

Draco pulled out his wand and cast the levitation spell at the box. To Harry's sheer amazement, a large trunk—that was bigger in all dimensions than the small box that contained it—came out. "Wh-what is that?" he stammered quietly.

Draco smiled, "That, is yours. I had her send your belongings from the last place you were staying. Before your disappearance."

Harry stared between Draco and the trunk, not sure what to do. "Can I open it?" He asked with a bit of wonder.

Draco laughed, sitting back. "It's your stuff, Potter. I don't care what you do with it." He said coolly thinking to himself, _just open it already!_

Harry carefully unlatched the hinges and pushed back the lid. The trunk seemed to have the same type of magic as the parcel for it was filled with an unimaginable amount of items. At least two dozen books, maybe more, a broom, various robes and other clothing, some very dirty socks, quills and parchment, and a long and slender stick somewhere near the surface. A wand. Harry was drawn to it and picked it up first. He could feel the magic flowing from his arm into the wood and he swore he could hear a faint hum as the wand twitched a little. He set it down rather quickly, to Draco's surprise, as he did not care for the way it felt in his hand.

He reached into the trunk again and pulled out the broom. "I saw one of these in your closet. It made me remember something." Harry said in awe. "I can fly?"

Draco laughed, "Hell Potter, I hate to admit this, but you are one of the best fliers I have ever seen."

Harry smiled a little at that statement. For some reason the broom brought him an immense amount of joy—so much so that his stomach warmed a little thinking about flying. He must have had some glorious memories on that broom.

The next thing Harry reached for was a thick leather-bound book. He opened it up to discover many of those moving photographs like the one Draco had upstairs. He gasped a little as he watched the pictures move and dance in front of his eyes. He saw pictures of himself and what appeared to be his friends—the red-head and the bushy haired girl. He also saw some people he didn't know. As he thumbed through the book, he stopped on a familiar set of faces.

"I know them…" Harry paused at a picture of a young red-haired woman dancing with a man who looked quite similar to him. He tried to remember where he saw them last, "I've met them before… in the woods."

Draco looked at the image curiously. The woman's eyes told him immediately who these people were, and he looked at the man seriously. "That is impossible, Potter. Those are your parents. They died shortly after you were born."

Harry winced a little at that comment. His parents? His parents who died in an accident? _No, your parents who were murdered._ His memory corrected him. He swallowed hard, still sure of his previous statement. "No. I know I have seen them. In… in the woods. Before I died…" He began to flip through the book some more and his eyes went wide. "And him! And him, too!" He pointed at two young men standing in a photograph of a small group of people. A caption that read, "DA" in the bottom right corner.

Draco recognized both men and his heart sank. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Harry was remembering the dead. Suddenly the realization had set in. In the woods Harry was rumored to have had the resurrection stone. He must have triggered its power before he faced the Dark Lord.

"Potter, those people you pointed out—your parents, your godfather Sirius, and Professor Lupin…" he hesitated, "they weren't alive when you saw them." Draco explained the resurrection stone and how Potter had come into its possession. "You must have used it to bring them back that night."

Harry listened to everything that Draco said. The memory of all of his loved ones was so vivid, yet he found no reason to not believe what Draco was telling him. He felt an instant heat of pain deep within his heart. His parents, his godfather, and a professor all dead. How many more had he lost? Was this what sent him running?

Draco watched Potter carefully as tears began to stream from his eyes again. He couldn't imagine the loss the young man had to deal with all before the age of eighteen. Even though Draco had seen his fair share of death, none of them were of anyone who held any meaning to him. He couldn't fathom what Potter was experiencing. As the young man cried, Draco reached out a hand, placing it gently on his shoulder. "Maybe you should get some rest, Potter." He spoke softly with concern in his voice.

* * *

Harry lay awake in the darkness of the room, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't help but wonder what else he had dealt with to make him leave his past behind. How many more deaths had he witnessed? As he drifted off to sleep finally, he couldn't help but wonder how many deaths were at his own hands.

 _Harry was almost running through the deserted halls of the castle. He was on a mission and for some reason it all revolved around Draco Malfoy. He was determined to find the Slytherin and to prove that he had something to do with the curse on Katie Bell._

 _He followed Draco through the halls and watched him enter into the bathroom. He could hear the sobbing from outside the door and as he entered in, the scene of Draco hunched over the sink made him feel nauseous. The young man was breaking apart and Harry had a front row seat._

 _Years of rivalry decided his next action as he stepped into the light from the window. "I know what you did, Malfoy." His voice was bitter, but his face shown a strange combination of anger and understanding. He could sense that Draco was not acting on his own free will and it was tearing him apart._

The rivalry decided Draco's next action as well as he spun around, tears in his eyes, shooting a hex towards Harry. The two dueled back and forth for a minute, ducking behind bathroom stalls, each one trying to get the better shot. Finally, they both turned a corner at the same time, facing one another. Harry was just a fraction of a second faster and shouted, "Sectumsempra".

 _Draco disappeared from sight as he was shot back into the bathroom. Harry readied himself for the retaliation, but it didn't come. He slowly moved forward, wand at the ready, but stopped short as he saw the trail of blood. His heart stopped in his chest as Draco came into his sight, on the floor and blood seeping through his crisp white shirt. He was barely breathing as fresh blood stains began to appear all over his body, the water on the bathroom floor running crimson._

 _A professor entered the room, passing Harry and hovered over Draco. Harry couldn't stay to watch and his nightmare went dark._

* * *

He awoke in the room, covered in sweat. He jolted out of bed, his heart racing, as he ran out of the room and into the next room over. It was dark, but the moonlight cast a glow onto the bed where the blonde was peacefully asleep. Harry reached for the covers, pulling them down quickly.

Draco jolted awake, quickly surveying the situation as he reached for the sheets and pulled them back up. "Potter! What the hell?!" he yelled as he stared at the dark-haired man hovering over him with wild eyes.

"Show me, Draco!" Harry's voice was shaking. Draco had no idea what he was talking about. "Show me!"

Harry lunged for the covers again, pulling them down, his eyes making contact with the faint, but visible scars covering Draco's torso. They glistened in the moonlight and Harry audibly gasped as Draco followed the man's stare to his chest. Draco knew now what had happened—Potter remembered.

Harry bolted from the room and down the stairs. Draco quickly jumped out of bed and grabbed his wand from the nightstand, following him, chasing him out into the garden. Harry was trapped in the fenced in yard and stood in the middle of it, wrapping his arms around him and holding his sides as if he might fall apart at any second.

"Potter! Talk to me!" Draco's demand was not angry, but rather sad and full of concern.

Harry turned around, tears pouring from his eyes, pointing to Draco's chest. " _This_ is why you call me Potter." He croaks out before collapsing to the ground, his sobs loud enough to wake the dead.

Draco runs to him immediately, picking up the man's torso in his arms, and holding him as he breaks apart. "It's okay…" he speaks softly, his heart shattering with each sob.

"I nearly killed you. You would have been dead if it weren't for…" Harry began sobbing heavily again and Draco held him tighter.

"It's okay. You didn't mean it. I attacked you first, you were just defending yourself…" Draco's voice was so uncharacteristic in that moment. With everything that had happened that day—all of the dark memories that surfaced—Draco knew that the dark-haired man was barely being held together and he hated that there was nothing he could do but to comfort him.

Harry's sobs began to subside after a long while, silent tears still falling, and Draco just held him. "Harry, it's okay…" he consoled.

Harry slowly lifted his head up, looking at Draco's silver eyes glancing down at him. There was nothing but worry in them and in that moment, Harry couldn't believe that they had been rivals despite what he just saw. "You… you said my name…" he whispered.

Draco stared back at Harry's green eyes, full of sadness. His heart stopped beating for just the quickest moment as he realized that Harry was right. In that moment, that moment of pure sadness, Draco had let his prejudice dissipate. In that moment, he knew that he cared for Harry, though the extent of that was unknown to him just then.

Draco helped Harry stand and led him into the house, keeping his arms around him. He moved Harry into the living room and sat down with him on the oversized sofa. He pulled his wand out of his pajama pocket and lit a fire in the fireplace. He wrapped the blanket from the back of the sofa around Harry and held him tightly until he could feel Harry relax into his arms with even breaths.

The dark-haired wizard had fallen asleep finally and Draco couldn't help himself. He leaned forward a little, pressing his face into the unruly mop of hair. He smelled of cedar and soap and it was a delicious scent. Draco closed his eyes as he categorized that smell into a very special place in his mind, quickly drifting off to sleep soon after.


	13. Chapter 13

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot! Also, UGH FINALLY. I promise we're getting closer to the good stuff! Just a few more chapters!}**

 **Chapter 13**

Harry awoke sometime early in the morning to the sound of the crackling fire. He felt oddly comfortable and safe, despite his breakdown last night. He opened his eyes and realized he had fallen asleep with his head on Draco's chest. His stomach warmed a little as he watched the sleeping man's torso rise and fall with each of his peaceful breaths. He remembered coming into the living room last night, Draco consoling him and pulling him in. He marveled at the way the slender arms held him tightly and made his fear and worry dissipate.

Then his eyes focused in on the faint scars which caused his upset last night. He bit his lip a little bit as some of the emotions began to creep back into his system. So, it was true—he had done this. Though, Draco said that he didn't mean it, the thought that he was capable of something so vile shook him to his core. He shuddered a little, a finger reaching out to lightly trace one of the healed wounds.

Draco could feel Harry shifting and he should have lead on that he was awake, but something kept him feigning sleep. Despite the reason they ended up like this, Draco found himself rather enjoying the closeness. There was an innocent intimacy wrapped around it that made him swell with a happiness he hadn't felt in some time. It seemed as though he had finally seen Harry for the first time without the ghost of his past telling him what to see. He was simply a man, albeit a very broken man, and Draco was able to see that now.

He watched through his eyelashes as Harry reached out for one of the scars, and a quick, but lazy, hand moved to stop it. "Don't…" he murmured sleepily.

Harry jumped a little, "Oh!" He pulled back, eliciting a barely audible whimper of protest from the blonde. "I didn't know you were awake." He said awkwardly, a light pink hue creeping into his tanned complexion. Had Draco been watching him? The thought made Harry nervous, but in a good way.

Draco smiled as he saw Harry blush, "Not for long. I felt you wake up." He watched Harry for a moment, trying to read him. "How are you feeling?" he asked curiously with a hint of concern.

Harry shrugged, "A bit better." It was an honest answer. He was feeling a little better than last night, but even better than last night still felt pretty awful. His mind was still playing tricks on him, telling him that all of these visions were real and fake at the same time. He couldn't figure out what he believed despite knowing deep down that what he was remembering was real.

Draco frowned a bit; even the Gryffindor couldn't muster up enough of his trademark bravado to convince Draco that he was doing better. He wanted to help Harry—though, at this point, he felt that some of that was selfish desire. If he could keep Harry happy, then maybe he would have a chance to get to know him a bit better and they could become friends. Draco made it a point to ignore the fact that the man he was sharing his home with right now wasn't fully Harry and that could change at any moment which would shatter his plan.

Harry replayed the last few days in his mind and he came to the realization that today was Monday. Most people worked on Mondays (Harry did not have a very good frame of reference for when he was a chef, he worked six days a week). "Are you going to work, today?" He asked casually, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice. He wasn't sure he wanted to be alone. Not after last night, and not with what Draco called "wild magic" running through him.

Draco smiled, "I am at work." Harry looked at him confused, which caused Draco to laugh a little, "Granger has decided that getting you healthy is top priority and she put me on the task. So, until you begin to… feel better… I am working. Though, I suppose she will want me to check in and report back occasionally."

Harry flushed a bit. Draco was being paid to babysit? He felt a bit childish, but he couldn't complain too much. Draco was helping him figure this out and he was being rather understanding considering Harry had all but intruded in upon his home and assaulted him on several occasions within the last few days. "Okay." He said with a soft smile.

Draco returned the smile as an idea came into his head, "And… I think I know our mission for the day…" He stood up and stretched. "Why don't you get dressed. I am going to have Harpy make us a quick breakfast and then dress myself. Then we'll get started."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "What are we going to be doing?"

Draco was already walking out of the living room. He turned around and shrugged, "You'll know soon enough." As he turned around to continue to the kitchen he called over his shoulder, "Dress in something comfortable!"

* * *

After breakfast, Draco had asked Harry to follow him to the garden. As he did, he saw two brooms leaning against the banister of the porch—his broom and the one from Draco's closet. He stared quizzically at them until he realized, with a lurch of his stomach, what Draco wanted to do.

"Potter," he said with command, though the name was not coupled with the harsh tones it once was, "I am going to re-teach you how to fly!" Draco looked extremely excited at this prospect—too excited to notice Harry pale at the mention of it.

"Draco," he said slowly as he was handed his broom, "do you really think this is a good idea? I mean I have no idea what I'm doing."

Draco shook his head a little, brushing the concern off. "Nonsense, you're a natural." He urged Harry to follow him into the yard. "I think you could have played Quidditch professionally, you know—and it kills me to admit that!"

"Quidditch?" Harry questioned as he caught up to Draco. The blonde turned around, grasping his chest in mock shock, "Oh. Oh that is painful, Potter." He set his broom on the ground and motioned for Harry to do the same. "Quidditch is _the_ wizarding sport played in the air." Draco went rambling on as he tried to explain the sport to Harry who just looked more confused than he had been previously. Draco cut himself off, "Oh, never mind. You'll learn in good time," he said with certainty.

"Now, we're going to start basic." The blonde was in full teacher mode, which Harry happened to find a bit endearing. "So, I want you to stick your hand over the handle like this," Draco demonstrated, "and command, 'Up!'" As Draco spoke, the broom sprung into life-the handle of the broom hitting his palm with force. Harry's eyes went wide as he watched. There was no way the broom was going to do that for him.

Yet, as he held his hand over the broom, he could already see it quivering on the ground. It was as if this broom was meant for him and they had just been reunited for the first time in a long time. 'U—" and before Harry could finish the word, the broom was in his hand and almost buzzing with magic. Harry stumbled back a little from the force, "Woah."

Draco's eyes shone with pride as he watched Harry react to the broom for the first time. He remembered his first time on the broom when he was only eight. No matter what was going on in his life, being in the air made it all okay.

"Excellent! Now, I want you to swing your leg up and over, like this," Draco mounted his broom, with his toes still touching the ground.

Harry did the same, the energy of the broom was coursing through him and he suddenly felt eager to take off into the sky.

"Good! Now, _very_ carefully, I want you to push off of your toes, like this." Draco gently pushed his toes off of the ground. Harry stared in amazement as the blonde glided gently up—about ten feet—into the air before coming back down slowly and gracefully.

He gripped his own broom handle tightly and gave himself a few calming breaths, before willing his feet to make the first move. In that moment one of two things happened—either Harry was a little over zealous in his push, or Harry's broom was a little over zealous to have its owner back in the saddle—because Harry took off at an alarming speed at least a hundred feet into the air.

He could feel the wind rush past him as his broom brought him up to the altitude, and he knew he had this feeling before. Quidditch matches, a battle with a dragon, flying around a dilapidated wooden house that gave him a strange feeling of home—these were all images that flooded his mind as he rose into the sky. His heart felt full for the first time in forever and he couldn't help the cheer that escaped his lips as the broom slowed down.

"Potter!" Draco called from the ground, "Get back here!" The man's voice was laced with worry.

Harry nodded and quickly grew panicked as he realized, "I don't know how!"

Draco laughed a little, "Point the broom handle downward… _gently!_ " He prepared himself to take off in case he needed to intervene.

Much to both of their surprise, Harry was able to navigate the room back down to the ground—though, he was a bit shaky on the landing.

"Brilliant!" both men exclaimed as he landed and Harry dismounted the broom, running a hand through his hair. "That was… that was amazing." His eyes were shining with a happiness Draco had not seen in a very long time. It made him proud.

"I knew you'd be a natural. We just had to get you back on it." The blonde smiled, cupping Harry's shoulder with his hand. "How did it feel?"

Harry smiled warmly, "It felt… happy. " He recalled the one of the first memories he had after coming to stay with Draco—the memory of him saving Draco from the fiendfyre. He wanted to feel that again.

"Fly with me." He asked Draco simply.

Draco looked at Harry and laughed, "I don't think you're ready for that. You couldn't keep up to me!" He joked and Harry shook his head.

"No, I mean with me. On the same broom. Like when we flew through the fire…" his voice trailed off as he watched Draco's reaction.

Draco's face remained stoic, though Harry could see his emotions shifting behind his eyes. "You remember?" Draco asked quietly. Of course, for Draco it was a memory he never would forget. It was the first time Harry had saved his life.

Harry nodded, "It was one of the first really clear memories I had." He shrugged, "I think… I think it was my mind's way of telling me that I could trust you. If I saved you once, that I must have thought you deserved it." He bit his lip a little.

Draco looked away, Harry's words making him feel vulnerable, terrified, and ecstatic all at the same time; he wasn't sure how to process those emotions quite yet. He didn't respond to the request until Harry asked again.

"I think we've had enough flying for today, Potter." He said coolly, grabbing his broom and heading back towards the house.

Harry winced a little at Draco's response, standing in the yard for a few moments before grabbing his own broom and slowly following after the blonde. He was foolish to think that they could have been anything but rivals—clearly the bad memories he had yet to remember were enough to outweigh the good.


	14. Chapter 14

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot! Also, UGH FINALLY. I promise we're getting closer to the good stuff! Just a few more chapters!}**

 **Chapter 14**

Much of the first part of the week had been spent teaching Harry what it was like to be a wizard. Both men had moved on from the awkwardness that followed the night of flying, and they had adjusted into a rather normal—well normal for the situation—routine. Draco would wake far earlier than Harr y and would have Harpy prepare breakfast, which usually woke Harry; Draco had to admit that he was a little amazed at the amount of food the man could eat.

Harry focused on trying to learn as much about his past world as he could. As Draco spent some time catching up on work, Harry immersed himself in the library, pouring over books about potions, defense against the dark arts, charms, and even books about himself. Every bit of information that he read about his past life was strange—some of it hard to swallow. He read it and understood it, even remembered some of it, but he still felt separated from it—as if he really didn't remember it, but knew that the evidence was too strong for him to deny its truth (and truth be told, some of it he didn't want to deny).

The fact that Harry was beginning to control some of the raw magic in him should have been enough proof that all of this was real.

It was early Wednesday night and Draco and Harry were relaxing in the living room. Draco was not one to succumb to many muggle habits, but he found that he rather liked the soothing background noise of a television. He rarely paid attention to the shows, but he liked having the noise as it acted as company. He was mulling over some parchments that Granger had sent over and had given Harry control of the remote.

Harry was mindlessly flipping through the channels, lost in thought, and not really paying attention. He was never one to watch the television as nothing really held his interest for long. He sighed, turning the machine off which caused Draco's head to pop up from the papers, looking at Harry.

"Something the matter?" The blonde questioned.

Harry shrugged, "I thought things would be back to normal by now." He spoke with a touch of sadness that made Draco frown. For some reason that Draco would not address with himself, Harry's sadness so easily became his own.

"Things like this take time, Harry. Frankly, you've made amazing progress. Your magic is starting to become more controlled, and that is a good sign. At least you are no longer a danger."

"I know." Harry sighed, "It's just that none of it feels real. I trust that it is, but I don't know that it is. Does that make sense?"

Draco sighed. He wondered what it would take for Harry to feel safe enough in this new world for his mind to finally be put at ease. He sat forward a little as he got an idea. "Harry, are you up for a visitor?"

Harry looked to the blonde with a curious stare.

"I'm wondering if maybe we let you meet someone from your past—someone you were very close to—if that would help you to connect the pieces. Maybe more of an emotional attachment to your former life would help everything come together."

Harry thought for a moment. A more emotional attachment? He must have cared deeply for this person Draco was referring to. "I guess it couldn't hurt."

Draco smiled and held up his finger to indicate that he would be right back and Harry should wait. In about ten minutes, Harry could hear hushed voices coming from across the landing in the den.

"Are you sure? I don't want to push him, Draco." The voice was nervous sounding, and clearly female.

"Granger, it's time. For him and for you." Draco said as Harry heard two sets of footsteps coming his way. He stood and turned towards Draco and their guest. He recognized her immediately—it was the girl from the press conference and the hospital. He remembered Draco calling her Granger and from everything he had read and from Draco's stories, he knew that she was one of his best friends. She was dressed in more casual clothes than she was at the hospital and during the press conference. He assumed she was in business attire when he had seen her last.

"Oh! Hello. It's Hermione, isn't it?" Harry said politely, approaching her and reaching out his hand. Everything about the motion felt strange. This was his friend, should he hug her or something?

Hermione bit her lip as Harry held out his hand, taking it and shaking as it was the polite thing to do. "Yes, Harry. That's right." She said. She smiled, but it was weak and Harry could sense that she was scared and sad. He felt a pang of guilt.

Draco motioned to the living room, "Come, sit down, Granger." Harry noticed that he did not refer to her by her first name. He thought at first that could be because this was his boss, but he was getting to know Draco well enough to know that there was probably another reason—he seemed to have a past with Hermione as well.

The three sat in an awkward silence for a moment, no one willing to make the first move. Hermione shifted a little in her seat. She wanted more than anything to run to Harry and hug him for the first time since the day after the battle, but she knew it wouldn't be right—it was what she wanted, not him. So, she took the safe approach instead. "Draco tells me that you're starting to control your magic, Harry. That is really good!"

Harry smiled a little and nodded, "The wand still feels a little funny, though." She was so positive and supportive. It felt genuine, but he could tell she was holding back. That made him sad. He felt on a deeper level that he was comfortable around Hermione, but he couldn't remember why. That also made him feel sad.

Hermione looked to Draco with an inquisitive glance. She didn't know what Harry meant about his wand.

Draco nodded, "Yes, Harry says that the wand just doesn't feel right. Though, he's practiced without it and has been able to successfully cast a few minor spells. His wandless Lumos is actually quite good." Draco said all this with a positive attitude, but his look was one of concern. There was something about wandless magic that unnerved him.

Hermione looked impressed, "Wow, Harry. That is really impressive. Wandless magic is very difficult and only a very powerful wizard can execute it properly." She smiled, "Though, we all know that you are one of the most powerful wizards of our time."

Harry blushed a little, embarrassed. "I guess." He laughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. Draco smiled a little as he watched Harry do that. He was too damn modest. It was a quality that Draco found quite attractive.

Hermione didn't want to press, but she was rather curious about how Harry was coming along in his memories. Though selfish, she wanted to know if he remembered her and Ron at all. "So Harry, how are the memories coming? Draco said that you have begun to remember some things from your past." She watched the man carefully, willing to back off if he seemed uncomfortable.

Harry knew what she wanted to know, which made him more depressed. His face darkened a little, "I am remembering things. I see them in my head—visions of people and places and even some important events," he sighed, "but none of it feels quite right. It's like I have the visions and they are real, but my mind can't seem to wrap itself around the fact that they actually may have happened." He looked to Hermione, his eyes expressing the sadness he felt. "I know that I trust you—I feel it strongly. But, I don't know why."

Hermione's expression flashed just the slightest hint of sadness. She had to remind herself not to cry. "Oh. It's okay, Harry. This is all very difficult for you." Her voice was strained and Draco cringed a little. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. He wasn't sure Hermione was strong enough for it, now.

Harry looked to Hermione. "I'm so sorry," he whispered as he saw her visibly shudder, holding back the emotions welling up inside of her.

"Oh no, Harry!" She looked at him with tear-filled eyes. "You do not have to be sorry at all! This is my fault. I shouldn't have come here when Draco asked me. I knew it would be very hard for me. You're my best friend in the whole world and I…" she sniffled a little, "Well, it's just hard to see you going through this, you know?"

Draco stood up, "Granger, maybe these few minutes were enough. I think we should probably get to bed anyway. You and I have a meeting early in the morning." Draco's tone was polite, but a bit curt. Hermione could sense the air of protection in his voice and so could Harry. Hermione grew a little concerned, but Harry smiled a bit too much.

"You're right, Draco. We should all get some rest." She turned to Harry and smiled, pulling back the tears, "It was so nice to see you again, Harry. I hope that you'll allow me to visit again."

"Of course." Harry said simply with a sad smile, "I would like that very much."

Hermione went to speak again, but her voice got caught in her throat. She couldn't help herself, she leapt towards Harry and quickly hugged him. He was taken aback and wasn't able to reciprocate before she darted off towards the library and was not seen again.

Draco looked to Harry after she left and put a hand on his arm gently, "Are you okay?"

Harry nodded, "I'm okay." He didn't look Draco in the eyes. If he did, he knew the blonde would know he was lying.


	15. Chapter 15

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot! FINALLY! Sorry, long chapter is long!}**

 **Chapter 15**

"So, I will be gone for most of the day. Harpy can make you anything you want to eat. If you need something, tell her to send for me and I will be here immediately." Draco sounded more like a concerned parent then Harry's host. It made Harry feel a warmth he hadn't felt since he woke up with him on the couch the other morning.

"Draco, I'll be fine." Harry smiled as he spoke, sitting comfortably on the sofa. "I have a television to keep me occupied, plenty of reading material," he gestured to the library, "and believe it or not, I am quite capable of navigating a kitchen."

Draco couldn't help but smile a little at Harry's response. As convincing as the Gryffindor was, Draco was still worried about leaving him alone. He knew that something had bothered the man from last night's visit with Hermione and he wasn't ready to talk about it yet. More than that, Draco simply didn't want to leave Harry—period.

The blonde felt an odd sense of protection towards the Chosen One. He felt, at some level, that he still owed Harry for the times he had selflessly saved him from demise. He also felt a connection to Harry—though a part somewhere inside of him questioned if this connection was to Harry Potter or James Black. It was sometimes hard to tell where each began and each ended.

Draco moved to the library to use the floo, turning around before he did. He found green eyes following him, meeting his own, and a part of him knew that Harry felt the connection he felt. He smiled softly in an attempt to shroud his worry as he stepped into the fireplace, disappearing from the home.

* * *

Hermione was pacing in her office, biting her fingernails. Draco should have been here by now. It wasn't like him to be late. She wondered if something had happened to Harry. She was just about to head to the floos as the blonde walked into her office, sitting down on the leather chair across from her desk without so much as a word.

Hermione stared at him, trying to read his face. He didn't look panicked as if something had happened, but there was a hint of fear behind his eyes. Mostly, however, he just looked unsure. "Draco?" She sat on her desk in front of him, searching him for an answer to his mood.

He didn't look at her, but spoke rather matter-of-factly, "I was just stopped by Daller in the hall. It seems as if my mother is being released from Azkaban next week." As he spoke, he fiddled with his hands in his lap—a nervous habit Hermione had picked up on.

Of course Draco was nervous. He hadn't seen his mother in five years and he was not too happy with either of his parents after the life they had forced him into. Hermione couldn't fault the man for his inability to deal with this—especially not with all of the effort he was putting into trying to get Harry's mind back in order. She wasn't sure what to say, though.

"It's fine. Really. It's fine…" Draco muttered. He knew that it wasn't. There were so many thoughts going through his mind. Would she try to contact him? What would he say to her if she did? And then there was Harry. He didn't think his mother was foolish enough to try something after being released from prison—and deeper he knew that she wouldn't have a desire to—but the irrational fear gripped him. "It's not going to be safe for Harry."

Hermione bit her lip a little. Draco may have been overreacting in that regard—Mrs. Malfoy had not made the best decisions in her past, but Hermione felt what Harry had felt when he testified for her during the trials. Her decisions during the rise of The Dark Lord were strongly based on her loyalty to her family, not to Voldemort. "Draco, you know that she wouldn't dream of trying to hurt Harry… or you for that matter."

Draco shook his head, "I can't think about this now. I need to focus on work. Let's just do what we need to do so I can get back to Harry."

The way Draco spoke about returning to Harry, and his concern for the man's safety in regard to his mother, made Hermione a bit worried. Draco was forced into this mission of sorts because he would be emotionally detached from Harry—knowing that if Harry did not adjust well, Draco would be the one to handle it far better than anyone Harry had been close to would have. Yet, with the way he turned his thoughts to the man, she felt that maybe he was becoming attached.

She sat back at her desk, pulling out some papers for her and Draco to look over. They were looking into some proposals for muggle-wizard integrated services—hospitals, schools, police force. Neither of the two seemed to really be focused, however.

"Draco, let's take a break." Hermione set her papers down after about an hour, folding her hands across the desk. "How was Harry last night?" She asked, bringing up the subject so she could possibly get some more detail as to how Draco was really feeling.

Draco set his papers down as well, leaning back and sighing. "I don't know. He told me he was okay, but I knew that something was bothering him."

Hermione noted the tone of Draco's voice—it wasn't cool as it was when he first started looking after the broken wizard—it was filled with the concern one had for a friend, or even someone who was more than a friend. "You seem to be quite concerned about him, Draco…"

The blonde's eyes shot up and looked at Hermione. He wasn't sure why she cared. "Wasn't that the point? For someone to care for him while he figured things out? Something you and Weasel couldn't bother to do…" He didn't know why he suddenly got so defensive.

Hermione flinched just slightly, but kept herself from fighting with the man. "Draco, the point was that you would be an impartial party—one that was not attached to Harry so he was not pressured to remember based on the emotional need of those he was with."

Draco laughed. It was not a happy laugh, but one that was cold and a bit venomous. "So what, am I supposed to go back to our school days, Granger? Do you want me to despise him for no reason and try to hex him any chance I get?" Draco was standing now, glaring at Hermione.

She looked at Draco carefully, her face calm, "No, Draco. Of course not. I just…" she sighed, "I'm concerned about you." Draco stared at her with a confused expression. She continued, "I see how attached you have become in such a short time, Draco. You genuinely care for him, and I know you have for a long time before this in some way, but I worry about this because we don't know what is going to happen if Harry returns to us as he was." Draco stared blankly at her still, so she tried to explain, "What I'm trying to say is that Harry was last with us in one of the darkest times of his life and the reason it was so dark was because of the people that you were associated with."

Draco opened his mouth to protest and Hermione cut him off, "Draco, let me finish. I know that you did not choose that life, but to all of us on the outside, you were a part of it. If Harry returns to us, his memories are going to be filled with those thoughts and that bitter—albeit foolish—rivalry is still going to be all that he knows."

"But he testified in my favor, that has to count for something!" Draco's voice was no longer defensive, but rather worried. He was pleading with her and the gods above in his words.

"Yes, he testified in your favor… because it was the right thing to do, not because all of those feelings suddenly disappeared." She felt for Draco in this moment. She knew that the words were hard for him to hear, but she had to be frank with him. She cared for him and didn't want to see him hurt.

Draco shook his head, gathering up some papers from the desk, "You're wrong, Granger." He thought of the moment outside of the Room of Requirement five years ago—of the brief moment before they both ran off to fight their own battles. It was a moment of understanding and even sympathy for one another. You don't feel that for your rival.

He bunched the papers into his arms and headed for the door.

"Draco!" Hermione called. He paused in the doorway, but did not turn around. "Just be careful, please." She said as he slipped out of the door.

* * *

Harry was preparing himself some lunch, despite Harpy's protests. He set to make a simple salad, but wanted to challenge himself a little, so he thought he would practice a bit of magic during preparation. He had taken one of Draco's old schoolbooks from the library, a book about charms. He thought he had read something about a severing charm.

"Ah! There it is." He found the charm he was looking for—Diffindo. He pulled a cucumber out of the large refrigerator and set it on the counter. He rolled up his sleeves a little and held his hand over the cucumber. With a careful flick of his wrist, he motioned his index finger over the end of the vegetable while speaking the spell. To his pleasure, the end of the cucumber separated from the rest. He smiled at himself. From everything Draco had told him, and everything he had read, wandless magic was not common. Yet, somehow, here he was—still unsure of who he really was—conducting wandless magic with ease.

Draco entered the kitchen as Harry was dicing the rest of the cucumber with precision. It wouldn't have been odd, had he been using a knife—or a wand, for that matter—but all of the utensils were in the knife block which was sitting next to Harry's unused wand. He waited for Harry to finish with the cucumber before announcing his presence.

"Hey," he said quietly—his mood colored partly from his meeting with Hermione, partly from the news of his mother's return, and partly due to the unnerving feeling he got when he saw wandless magic performed.

Harry jumped a little, turning quickly, his hand still raised a bit. He quickly lowered it as he saw Draco, smiling a little. "Hi." He said, his smile fading as he saw Draco's face. From what he had seen over the last few days, he knew that Draco did not often wear his emotions for others to see. Yet, the man standing before him, was very clearly upset. Harry abandoned his salad—Harpy jumping in immediately, thankful for a job—and moved a bit closer to Draco. "Something is wrong." He stated, his face flashing with concern.

Draco sighed. There were many things wrong, but the one thing that Draco kept focusing on was what Hermione had said—that Harry may not be able to forgive the rivalry he had not remembered yet. "Can we talk? Maybe somewhere a little more comfortable?"

Harry's stomach lurched. This seemed bad. "Yeah. Sure." He said, rubbing the back of his neck a little as he followed Draco into the living room.

Each man sat on opposite ends of the couch. It was silent for a few minutes before Draco spoke. "I know I have told you about our rivalry back at Hogwarts, but I've never really given you an explanation as to why we were rivals."

Harry shrugged, "I've put two and two together, Draco. We fought on different sides of a war." Harry had read enough over the last few days and discerned from his vague memories to know that much. He also knew that in the end, he had known Draco was not evil—he wouldn't have testified in his favor if he thought he was. "It doesn't bother me, Draco. I know that I trusted you enough to forgive that. You must not have had a choice in fighting on your side."

Draco wouldn't look at Harry, "That's only partially true, Harry." He sighed, finally looking into Harry's green eyes, "I want to tell you everything. Every single detail so you can make a judgement based on facts, not vague memories and suspicions."

And so, Draco talked. He told Harry of his upbringing. How his family was one of the longest line of pure-blood wizards and what that meant in the wizarding world, but mostly what that meant to his father. "He had this inane need to preserve the Malfoy bloodline. He was desperate for an heir to the throne—thank god I was a son rather than a daughter. He probably would have had me destroyed if I wasn't…"

Harry listened intently, only responding when Draco paused. "What about your mother? Surely she wouldn't have let that happen."

Draco smiled a little, a nostalgic feeling filling his insides. "I suppose not. My mother was desperate for a child. When she finally conceived, she was beyond thrilled—or so my aunt used to tell me. I was her 'little dragon'. She loved me and never ceased to show that."

Harry could sense the love Draco had for his mother, but it seemed he was holding back. He let the blonde continue.

Draco spoke about growing up under his father's teachings. Lucius had spoken so highly of the power of the great Dark Lord and how he would bring purity back into the wizarding world that had been tainted by those not worthy. "I was young. I looked up to my father. I hung on every word he said and I looked up to him. Of course it wasn't long before I was shouting the praises of the Great Dark Lord." Draco said the last bit with a venom that Harry had not heard come from him before. It was unnerving.

"By the time I entered Hogwarts, hatred of the muggle-born was ingrained into me—it was second nature. Of course, getting sorted into Slytherin did not help matters. It was almost expected of me when I was surrounded by so many others who shared the same upbringing."

Draco spoke of his classmates and how many of them were in the same situation he was in—knowing nothing of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, yet being forced to follow in their family's devotion despite some of them very uncomfortable with it all. "None of us were ever really friends. We all just stuck together out of necessity. It was what we were told to do."

He wanted nothing more than to please his parents. His mother was simple. She loved him unconditionally. His father was more difficult to please. "In our second year, when the Dark Lord was using the Weasley girl to open the Chamber of Secrets, I was scared. Watching innocent people suffer—no matter how I felt about their upbringing—was difficult.

"One evening, I asked my father about why Voldemort was petrifying the mudbloods—what purpose it served. You see, I couldn't understand what Voldemort's intentions were. The rumor was that he wanted you dead and gone and he wanted purity in the wizarding world—this served as nothing more than a scare tactic, not a means to the end."

Draco's features darkened as he collected his thoughts. "Do you remember reading about the Unforgivable Curses?"

Harry nodded. It was in one of his favorite books of Draco's about the Dark Arts and how to defend against them.

Draco nodded, his eyes meeting Harry's for the first time during their discussion. "Well, I learned first-hand about the Cruciatus Curse from my father that evening."

Harry let an audible gasp escape his lips. There was no sugar-coating the Unforgivable Curses in the literature he had read. Every word about these curses described them as such vile magic. The thought of one's own father using one of these on his son was appalling. Harry wanted to reach out and comfort Draco, but the man seemed to want to continue uninterrupted.

"I think that was the first time, I began to question what type of man Voldemort truly was. And what type of man my father was." The blonde resumed retelling the tale of the next few years. How he spent most of his time tormenting Harry and he would never forgive himself for it. "I didn't want to think about my future in the world I was raised in. 'As my son, it is expected that you will follow under the rule of The Dark Lord" Draco mimicked his father's voice.

"I didn't want that, Harry. I swear to you I already knew that it was not what I wanted, but I wasn't strong enough to fight it. What choice did I have? I had nowhere to go even if I wanted to. So, I appeased my father by committing to the Dark Lord's hatred of Harry Potter."

Harry nodded in understanding, "I get it." It was a form of self-preservation. By tormenting Harry, Draco could feign allegiance with Voldemort without fully committing to his cause.

Draco shifted a bit uncomfortably as he spoke about Voldemort's return. "Cedric was a friend. He was an amazing wizard and he was pure-blood. That monster had no right to kill him. He was mad with power." Harry's heartbeat was fast as he listened. He had quick visions of some of these memories—the one of a brown-haired boy in yellow and black surrounded by green light made him shudder.

"That was the moment I knew I did not want to be a Death Eater. Voldemort may have been a powerful wizard, but he was deranged." Draco continued into his fifth year where he spent his time trying to escape the inevitable, his entrance into the ranks of the Death Eaters. Yet, he struggled to escape it at all; his name and his past actions made him an enemy to those fighting against Voldemort. "I didn't belong, Harry. Again, I had nowhere to go and I was too cowardly to fight against it."

Harry could feel the sadness radiating off of Draco. "So," the blond continued, "I developed this learned helplessness and accepted my fate. By my sixth year, I had become one of them—my father's replacement since he was sent to Azkaban. I hated myself for it. And then I was forced to do the thing I swore I would never do…"

Draco told of his mission to kill Dumbledore and all of the people he had inadvertently hurt along the way. He told Harry how badly it had eaten away at him all year. "You saw me at a weak point that night in the bathroom… the night you gave me these scars. I thought I was going to die in that bathroom and that thought was terrifying. Despite not wanting to have any part in this war, I didn't want to die, either. I knew, when Snape had saved me that night, that I had to kill Dumbledore or else I would die, at the hand of the man I hated."

Harry grew nervous. Draco was on the verge of killing someone for Voldemort's cause and he had almost killed many innocent people, including Harry's best friend, in his mission. He knew that the boy had no choice, but to know that the man across from you was capable of those things—well it made you think.

"Maybe it was for the best that Snape had done it for me. Had I gone through with it, I think I would have lost my mind. While Snape's heroic act preserved what little sanity I had left, it led to my father's disappointment upon his escape from Azkaban. Even though I hated everything he believed in, he was still my father and I wanted to please him. He never really loved me, and I needed him to. I needed to make him proud. So, I helped the Death Eaters get into Hogwarts for the final battle."

Draco had run out of steam. He had been telling his story for hours. Harry sat in silence, letting his mind wrap around everything he was told. He considered the whole story about Draco's past. Draco was just another victim of Voldemort. Voldemort had taken control of the Malfoy family, and it seemed as if only one of them truly believed in what Voldemort stood for—the other two were simply trapped under their surname.

Harry was quiet for a long while as he thought. The silence made Draco nervous. He was waiting for the man to run from the home and never look back, or worse, to kill him on the spot. He deserved all of it as he had never quite forgiven himself for his past.

"I think I knew," Harry said after what seemed like hours, "that you weren't like the other Death Eaters."

Draco stared at Harry, raising an eyebrow, "What do you mean, you knew?"

Harry sighed, "When I saw the memory of the bathroom, I remember seeing you before you saw me. You were crying, Draco… What you were doing, it was tearing you up inside. I think that is why I testified for your pardon during the trials…" Harry went quiet again as a memory flooded him.

 _He was being held against his will, a wand pointed in his face. Someone was asking Draco if this was Harry Potter. Draco looked into his eyes, a look of recognition flashed before it was replaced by something else—fear, maybe?_

 _"I can't be sure…" Harry knew, though. Harry knew that in that quick moment, Draco had saved his life._

Harry gasped as his mind returned to the present, a concerned Draco was hovering over him. Something about that memory felt more real than any of the others. He was staring up into Draco's eyes as he whispered, "You saved my life… when I was captured. You could have sent me to my death, but you let me escape. You put your own life on the line to save mine."

Draco stared intently at Harry. He was right. He had almost forgotten about that moment. That explained why Harry had returned the favor the night of the fiendfyre. "You didn't deserve to die, Harry. I did. If you died, He would have won. If I died… no one would have been any worse off." He slumped back against the couch, avoiding Harry's glance.

"No true Death Eater would have made that decision, Draco." No, a Death Eater would have turned him into Voldemort in an instant.

Draco bit his lip as he lifted up his left sleeve, flipping his forearm to face Harry. Harry looked down, seeing a faint scar on the arm. As he looked closer, he could see what it once was—the image of a skull with a snake weaving through it sent a shudder through him. "It is the Dark Mark, Harry. Every Death Eater was given one and even after Voldemort was defeated, it never fully disappeared. I will always be a Death Eater, Harry."

Harry reached a hand out to Draco's. "No. It is just a name, Draco…" Harry squeezed Draco's hand, causing the blonde to look into his eyes, "…and a rose, by any other name would still smell as sweet."

Draco's heart stopped beating as he heard Harry's words to him. His stomach filled with a warmth unlike anything he had felt and he could feel his eyes water slightly as he was moved by Harry's unfaltering trust in him. He simply couldn't hold it back any longer. He leaned forward towards Harry, merely centimeters away from the man's face.

Harry's heart was beating enough for the both of them—he could feel it pounding in his chest as Draco leaned in. He wasn't expecting what would happen next, but he wasn't about to stop it as Draco moved closer to him, his lips parting and eyes closing.

When their lips finally collided, both men felt a surge of energy between them. There was an urgency in the kiss, as if each of them had been waiting for it for a lot longer than they had realized. Draco let his tongue graze Harry's lips who parted them willingly, their tongues exploring one another. Harry reached a hand up into Draco's hair, pushing the man's face closer to his own, almost holding him in the kiss—he didn't want it to stop.

Ultimately, the kiss came to an end, leaving each of them breathless and a bit dazed. They stared at one another for a long time, Harry's hand still resting in Draco's hair, and Draco's hand on Harry's hip. Draco was the first one to brave speech.

"Come to bed with me."

* * *

Draco's arms were wrapped around Harry as the dark-haired wizard drifted off to sleep. They had only just shared their first kiss, and yet, as they innocently lay in the same bed, Draco was already falling quickly for Harry Potter. He bent his head down and placed his lips gently on the back of Harry's neck, kissing it gently, before nuzzling up against him and falling asleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot!}**

 **Chapter 16**

Harry could feel the sun on his face peeking through the tiny window in Ron's room at the Burrow. He was rather shocked that no one had woken him yet, though he imagined they knew how taxing the trials were on him yesterday and opted to let him rest. He slowly opened his eyes, staring up at a crisp white ceiling. He immediately sat upright, eyes wide. This was not the Burrow.

He flew out of bed and looked around the strange room. He had no idea where he was. As he stared at the bed lined with green silk linens, he noticed that someone was in the bed he was just laying in and they were just waking up. He watched, fear gripping his chest as he met sleepy silver eyes.

"Malfoy?!" He exclaimed, his heart racing.

Draco eyed the man curiously, though quickly assessing the panic on his face, he stands up and moves towards Harry. "Harry, what's wrong?" Draco wondered if he had bad dreams again last night.

Harry stepped back, "What do you think you're playing at Malfoy? You should be in Azkaban!" Though, as he said that, his mind told him it was wrong. He shook his head a little, feeling a very strong headache approaching.

Draco eyed the man curiously. It must have been a very bad dream to be affecting him like this, "Harry, what are you talking about?"

Harry's headache was growing exponentially and he grabbed his head. He gritted his teeth to see through the blinding pain, "W-where am I? What did you do to me?!" He screamed at Malfoy, his eyes trying to focus in on the room to find his wand. He couldn't find it. "Give me back my wand, Malfoy," he hissed through gritted teeth.

Draco began to grow scared. He was putting the pieces together in his head and his stomach lurched a little as he figured out what was happening. "Harry. Can you tell me what day it is?" He watched the man closely, trying to read his next move.

Harry stared at him, "You know what day it is, Malfoy! I stood up for you! And now you're…" he screamed out a little—his head feeling as if someone was slicing it open. He squeezed his eyes shut as memories began to swirl in his mind—memories of his past, of the last week, of the last five years. Everything was battling in his mind—James' memories being overtaken by the memories of his life. He screamed out again, holding his head as if it was going to fall off if he didn't, and collapsing onto his knees.

Without thinking, Draco reached out to place a hand on Harry's shoulder in hopes to console him.

Instinctively, Harry threw his wand hand out, though wandless, and cast a rather strong disarming spell. Draco went flying backwards into the closet door with a loud crack. "Get away from me, Malfoy!" He hissed. He stood up and stretched his hand out again, "Accio glasses." His glasses were quickly in his hand. He didn't question how he could cast wandless magic-he could just feel it. He knew that he had to get out of there and get some help.

As the blonde was slowly trying to stand from his flight across the room, Harry disapparated with a loud pop. "Harry…" Draco stood, looking at the space the broken wizard just occupied, dumbfounded.

* * *

Molly Weasley was standing at the sink in the Burrow, aiming her wand at a particularly stubborn plate. Just as she was about to cast the scouring charm as she heard a loud pop. Her wand misfired, shattering the plate as she turned around to see a dark-haired man, hunched over on the floor. She aimed her wand at him, her hand shaking, until he raised his head enough just so she could see the faint scar on his forehead.

"Harry?!" She exclaimed, her heart nearly stopping. It had been five years since his disappearance—gone without a word—and here he was in her kitchen without warning. Of course, she knew all about the developments of his finding from Hermione, but she had no idea why he was here. Thought, she soon realized that he was in trouble and rushed over to him, helping him stand. "Harry, tell me what happened."

Apparating had taken its toll on Harry—the headache was almost unbearable now. "Malfoy. Escaped…" he managed to mutter before darkness filled his eyes and he slumped over in Molly's arms.

* * *

Draco flew into Hermione's office, still in his pajamas with a small streak of blood trickling down his face from his collision with the closet. She leapt up from her desk, her eyes quickly changing from shock to worry. "Oh my god…" she breathed, running to Draco.

Before he could even explain what happened, Molly's face appeared in the fireplace, "Harry. St. Mungo's. Quickly." And she disappeared. Draco grabbed Hermione's hand, dragging her into the floo.

As they came through to St. Mungo's, Molly was waiting for them. "Oh, thank heavens!" She pulled Hermione into a hug, "The mediwizards have him now. They're running some test…"

Hermione pulled back quickly and stared at Draco, "What happened!?" Her eyes were on the edge of tears.

Draco explained everything that had happened that morning—Harry waking up confused, screaming out in pain, the wandless magic and his disappearance.

Molly gasped after listening to Draco, "Merlin! It's a wonder he didn't splinch himself when he disapparated!"

"Something must have triggered it all. Draco what were you doing before—" And then she remembered the part of the story where Harry woke up. In the same bed as Draco. Her eyes narrowed at the blonde as her face reddened with anger and a bit of embarrassment. "You didn't!"

Draco stared at her confused, "Didn't wha—" and then he realized what she must have assumed from the story, "No! God, no Granger!" he crossed his arms across his chest. As he looked at Molly, to see her eyes twinkling a little above her flushing cheeks—she must have caught on as well—his face turned crimson.

Before Draco was forced to explain the truth of what really happened the night before, one of the Mediwizards approached. "Potter?" The three nodded, staring at the man. He continued, "Based on his last visit, and the symptoms that are presenting, it appears as if Harry is trying to fight his own memories."

"Fight his own memories?" Draco questioned. He had never heard of such a thing.

"Yes. The human part of his mind is beginning to transition back from his fugue state—causing him to forget the memories he had created over the last five years. Our best guess is that his awareness of who he truly was and his newly re-awakened magic caused the wizarding part of his mind to fight the loss of memories from his fugue state while suffering with the return of the memories from his past. A sort of memory limbo."

Hermione spoke with a worried tone, "What will that do to him?" She knew how one could become damaged from memory charms and even more so from when they were rarely broken-it sounded as if Harry's mind thought he was battling both.

The mediwizard nodded, "There are many variables that are at play here, Miss. In his mind, he has one set of memories that are being obliviated and another set that are being forced upon him against his will. From what we can tell so far, the best case scenario is that Mr. Potter will retain the set of memories that fight the hardest. He may have strange visions that come to him in regard to the other set, but he won't understand them. Worst case scenario… he might become stuck in this limbo—no set of memories capable of breaking through the ward his mind has put up…Unfortunately, since we are not dealing with outward magic, it is hard to be sure what outcome there will be."

"And until things are sorted out? What do we do?" Draco's voice was strained as he held back the emotions tugging at him.

"For now, you let him sleep. We have given him some pretty potent potions to combat the headaches and to relax his mind. Our hope is that the potions might allow his mind to let down its defenses and settle this in his sleep. When he wakes, we may have an answer as to how he is going to come out of this. And if we don't, I suggest the help of as many familiar faces as possible, but be warned, that you may not be familiar to him quite yet."

"Thank you," Molly said to the mediwizard as he stepped away. "Why don't you two stay here in case he wakes. I will head to the Burrow and start alerting those who need to know."

Hermione nodded as Draco stared blankly after the mediwizard. He was trying not to think of all of the bad things this could mean for Harry. There was a chance that Harry could have his memories returned to him safely. Yet, Draco couldn't help but think about where he stood in those memories. Any of Harry's good memories of him—from this past week—were created in his fugue state. So, either Harry went back to back to being James, an ordinary muggle, or he went back to being the Boy Who Lived—his rival.

Draco wasn't sure what outcome he was hoping for.


	17. Chapter 17

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot! Sorry I had to take a few day break! One of my doggies got called in to donate blood to the veterinary emergency hospital-yes this is a thing! Was there all night!}**

 **Chapter 17**

 _Harry was in his school robes, standing outside of the entrance of Hogwarts. The sun was high, but the air was hazy—it smelled smoky and metallic. All was silent. A way through the gate and up the path to the castle was a man. He looked to be around Harry's age, maybe a little older, and dressed in muggle clothes. Harry wasn't scared. He approached._

 _"This must be Hogwarts," the voice spoke—his voice. The man turned around and faced Harry, a sheepish smile on his face. "I'm James."_

 _"Where are we?" He questioned the other part of his mind._

 _"Hogwarts, well, your Hogwarts. Somewhere in your memories, I imagine." James said as he started walking forward._

 _Harry's stomach churned a little as he followed. He wasn't sure he wanted to be there. He could smell the death and destruction in the air as they grew closer to the castle. Cinder blocks and fallen statue soldiers were covering the bridge, and the two men had to climb over rubble to get up to the castle. As they approached, the castle was a mere fraction of its former self. The front entrance had been blown open and the columns were tipping at unsteady angles. James stopped and Harry stopped alongside of him._

 _"So, this is why you ran…" James said in awe._

 _Harry nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "I suppose so."_

 _The two continued on into the castle, climbing over fallen columns and rubble. Harry stared up at the paintings that still lined the walls—many destroyed, all empty. James continued forward into the Great Hall._

 _"Woah, you have to tell me all about this place!" He said, staring up at the ceiling, which still held its enchantment to look like the outside sky. Harry felt unnerved that the setting sun made the ceiling appear blood-red._

 _"This is the Great Hall…" Harry said simply, navigating to the remains of a table, sitting upon it. He tried to remember all the wonderful times—meals with his classmates, and that feeling of excitement he always felt during the first meal of the year. Yet, despite how hard he tried, all he could remember was where the bodies were lain after battle. He shuddered._

 _When James had finished exploring the magic that remained in the hall, he sat next to Harry. "Tell me about the battle."_

 _Harry began to recall the events of the battle, even those leading up to it—such as hunting for Horcruxes. He told the stories without any emotions attached. It was as if he was reading a book, word for word, where he didn't quite understand the meaning behind it. He talked for what felt like days, until the sky in the great hall began to shine with pinpricks of the night sky._

 _James looked up after Harry had explained how he defeated Voldemort, in awe of the beauty in the ceiling. He stayed quiet for a while as he processed what Harry had told him. Eventually, he looked over to Harry. "But, you won, right? You saved so many people…"_

 _"But at what cost?" Harry said darkly, his finger trailing in the dirt. The two stayed in silence again, until Harry was the one to break it this time._

 _"I had good memories, here. Some of the best of my life."_

 _James stared at Harry, "Then why leave?"_

 _Harry gave a shrug, "Because they will always be overshadowed by the bad memories."_

 _Both men sighed and James leaned back a little, on his hands. "Are you hungry?" He asked to Harry, who smiled for the first time since their meeting._

 _"Famished."_

 _Harry blinked and they were in a kitchen. Harry looked around a little, noting that this just wasn't any kitchen, it was an industrial kitchen—like one in a restaurant. "Where are we?" He questioned James._

 _James was wearing a white coat, standing at the stove, nursing some impressive flames in a pan. He looked at ease and happy. Harry felt instantaneously jealous._

 _"We are at Quid Row, a restaurant where I am head chef!" James said, pouring various ingredients into the pan._

 _"Head chef? You can cook?" The smells were intoxicating and Harry's mouth watered._

 _"Apparently! Though, I suppose that means you can cook, too." James said, turning around with a small grin, "I think a lot of who I am comes from you."_

 _Harry smiled at that thought. He wondered what his life would have been if he wasn't The Boy Who Lived. He was curious to know about James' life. "Tell me about your life."_

 _James smiled, glad to talk about it. He told Harry of how he came to the city without a place to live or a penny to his name. "I walked into the first place that had a 'Help Wanted' sign," he laughed, "and they must have been desperate because they hired me on the spot." He spoke about how he met Liam, his co-worker, who let him stay at his flat until he could work enough to put a deposit down on his own._

 _As Harry watched James speak about Liam, he noticed how James' eyes smiled. "You like him a lot, don't you?" Harry said sadly, wishing he had the luxury of romance in his life. There was Ginny, but their relationship began in the midst of a war—they never really had time to just enjoy it._

 _James smiled, "I do. He is my best friend and I would be lying if I said that I wasn't attracted to him…" his voice was sad as he continued to cook. "I just always felt that something was off, like I was missing a part of my life. I couldn't commit to what he wanted because I never really felt whole and I firmly believed that he was not the missing piece."_

 _James talked about his past, or the past that he created for himself. "I had stories at the ready in case someone asked, and if I didn't think about it too hard, they seemed real—but I had no real memories. I couldn't create anything like this about my past." He told about the story of his parent's fatal accident that landed him with abusive relatives._

 _Harry laughed darkly, "Well, you got that part from me." Both he and James rubbed the back of their necks at the same time—neither of them liked talking about their time with their relatives._

 _"I left the minute I could, and that's how I ended up here." Suddenly they were seated in the restaurant, a delicious meal sitting on their plates. Neither of them ate._

 _"You seem happy, though," Harry said, "so why did you let me back in?" James had a good life—a successful career, a place of his own, someone who he could love (if only he opened himself up)—why would he have let Harry's memories begin to choke him out?_

 _James sighed, "At first, I didn't have a choice." He explained about the wizarding world coming out of hiding, how it terrified him to his core. He told the story of seeing Draco for the first time, and what had happened leading up to the current moment._

 _As the story progressed, Harry could see that same look in James' eyes—the happiness—when he talked about Malfoy. Was it possible that James had feelings for Malfoy? The thought was hard to swallow as that meant in some part of his mind,_ he _had those feelings._

 _"You know, I couldn't remember any of it, but at some deep level, I knew it was all true. I trusted Draco wouldn't lie to me, and my soul believed all of it." He smiled a little, "I wanted it all to be true. I wanted to have a past—though dark it might have been—I had a story, finally."_

 _Harry bit his lip, "And Malfoy? How does he fit into all of this?"_

 _James flushed a bit, "_ Draco _," he corrected, "saved me in a way. I don't think he wanted to at first, but he quickly grew concerned for me and my well-being. I think a part of him felt as if he owed you something—for saving his life."_

 _Harry raised an eyebrow, "I never—" and then he remembered the trial, and the fiendfyre. He was quiet and James smiled._

 _"You did. And I think you felt something in that room with the fire. I could feel it when I saw it. I could see it in Draco's eyes and I could feel it inside of us. It was the only memory that really resonated with me—the only one that actually felt truly real." James looked down, their plates were empty._

 _When he looked back up, they were in his apartment. Harry looked around at the small, but homely space. The Gryffindor colors were not lost on him and coupled with the brick walls, it was almost like his own version of Hogwarts—during the happier times._

 _James let Harry explore the apartment for awhile before both men ended up next to the bed, staring at it sadly. He spoke quietly, "You probably have to wake up soon."_

 _Harry shook his head, "If I wake up, I'll go back to being The Boy Who Lived… I don't want that life. Why can't I just be you?" Harry looked to James with sad eyes._

 _James smiled, mirroring the sadness. "Well, I suppose you can. It's your choice…" he trailed off and shrugged, "But, I think everyone would miss you."_

 _"They won't miss me. They'll miss my heroics—their Savior—but not me." Harry looked down at his feet. He didn't really believe that, did he? He had Hermione and Ron, the entire Weasley family—well whomever was left. Maybe Ginny was even still waiting for him._

 _"He'll miss you." James said, referring to Draco._

 _Harry shook his head, "No. He'll miss James. He has feelings for you, not me. I will always be Potter and he will always be Malfoy." Harry sighed, recalling what James had told him—about how Draco had saved him from his mind and how he helped the man get to this point. If Harry was the one to wake, he would be taking James away from those who loved him—the restaurant, Liam, and even Draco._

 _"_ You _should wake up. I did my duty for the wizarding world. You'd be leaving just as much behind. Do you want to disappoint everyone you care about?"_

 _James bit his lip. Harry had a point. He abandoned his restaurant, his friends, Liam… The guilt he felt when he thought about Liam was almost too much to bear. He had abandoned him without so much as an explanation. More than that though, he started to have feelings for someone else. While he knew that he had never promised Liam anything, he felt guilty for leading him on. He desperately wanted to tell Liam all of this-to apologize for the way he had treated him and strung him along during their relationship. If he didn't wake up, he never would have that chance. Yet, despite all of that, what would he gain from waking up?_

 _"You have a past Harry. I don't. If I woke up, I would always feel like I am missing a part of me. And now that I know the truth, how could I give that up? I want us to have a past, Harry."_

 _"Sometimes the past isn't worth remembering…"_

 _"Yours is!" James yelled at Harry, "You had parents who died for you! Friends who stood up for you and fought with you! Hell, even your enemies made your life exciting. I—I had nothing. I had a life built upon the stories I created in my head to fill the emptiness I felt. None of it was real. What you had was real!"_

 _"I don't want it to be real!" Harry was near tears now, yelling back. "And… I don't want to lose you! You are my only tie to this life, the life away from my past. A chance to finally live. If I go back, they'd just expect me to keep being the hero—always fighting the bad guys. I just want the simple life you have created…" he sat down on the bed, looking up at James. "I'm tired of fighting."_

 _Harry could feel himself growing tired now. James must have felt it, because he sat down, too. "Look, I'm tired of fighting, too." He sighed and leaned back on the bed a little, "If you want to be James… I'll do it. But I will never be happy, not fully."_

 _Harry could see the sadness in his eyes. His life was painful to remember, but maybe James was right. At least he had memories—somewhere there were good ones, too. "I'll never be fully happy as Harry, either. I don't want you to give up everything that you have made for yourself here—and I don't want you to disappoint the friends and family you have made." Harry stifled a yawn as he leaned back, his eyes closing heavily. "Why don't we both just stop fighting and wake up together."_

 _James blinked slowly, his own eyes beginning to feel heavy. "Can we do that?" He yawned and lay back on his bed, letting the softness relax him._

 _Harry lay back as well, his thoughts growing foggy. "I don't know…"_

 _And in a matter of seconds, both men had fallen asleep on the bed._


	18. Chapter 18

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot!}**

 **Chapter 18**

"It has been a week, Draco. You haven't left the hospital once. You need to go home, get some rest." Hermione sat across from Draco in the waiting room at St. Mungo's. She looked at the blonde in front of her. He had been given a set of patient robes to wear, since he refused to leave and change into something more appropriate than the pajamas he had come in with. He had dark circles under his eyes and he was even more pale than usual.

"I have told you before, and I will tell you again, Granger. I am not going anywhere until he wakes up." His voice was hoarse and while his words were firm, his intonation was weak. He was tired and scared. "The mediwizards said that if he doesn't wake up in a few days, they are going to place him in the Janice Thickey Ward…" Draco trailed off.

None of the mediwizards were able to explain why Harry hadn't woken up yet. The potions they had given him his first night in the hospital were only supposed to last a maximum of 24 hours. After they wore off, there was no answer. They just kept saying he had an unusual amount of brain activity. After five days of that, there was talk that he may not wake up at all.

Ron—who had left the Quidditch semi-final tournaments to come home and be with Hermione and Harry—tensed at the mention of the ward. "Are you sure, Malfoy? They only send witches and wizards into the ward if they don't think they're coming back out…"

"Of course I'm sure, Weasley." Draco hissed. Part of him wished that the red-head had stayed on his tournament tour, but he couldn't deny that his presence seemed to put Hermione at ease. He knew that both of them were concerned for Harry, and they had more right to be than he did—they were his best friends. Yet, here he was, the one sleeping in a hospital—night after night—waiting for some news, any news.

He spent a lot of time thinking about why he was stuck to the hospital—why he cared so much for this man who five years ago was a foe. He thought that maybe Hermione was right, that maybe he had truly cared about Harry for a long time and just hid behind a childish rivalry rather than admitting to it. Though, despite the truth he felt in that, there was something more. Something that only presented itself when he saw Harry in pain.

As dark as it was, the fact that Harry ran away from his past, made him attractive to Draco. He had spent the years truly thinking that Harry loved the attention—that he fought because he had some hero complex and wanted the success. It wasn't until Draco got to spend time with Harry—well, James—that he realized that all of the heroic acts were something that the man didn't want as a part of his life. These were things he did because he had to, not because he truly desired to—if he had truly wanted those things for his life, he wouldn't have run from it. That simple fact made Draco relate to him more than he had to anyone his entire life. That is where the true attraction came from, he thought. Though, if Harry never woke up—rather, if James never woke up—he might never get the chance to tell him.

The three sat in silence until a mediwizard came out to greet them. He was smiling. Draco's heart stopped beating and they all stood. "So, it appears that Mister Potter has woken up, and the results are better than we could have hoped."

Hermione clutched Ron's arm as he sighed in relief, "So he has his memories, still?" The young woman asked hopefully.

The mediwizard nodded, "He does, and it seems that he has somehow retained both sets of memories." Draco's heart began beating quickly now. Harry and James, together in one mind. Draco hadn't ascertained that possibility and what it would mean for him. On one hand, James was still there with all of the memories from the last week. He might have not had much in the way of successful relationships, but he knew that James was attracted to him in some way. He could see it. And then there was Harry, who would always see him as Malfoy—an enemy. He suddenly felt suffocated.

"He's ready for visitors now." The mediwizard smiled at the trio and all but one returned the smile. Draco stood transfixed, staring as the mediwizard walked away. He wanted nothing more than the man to wake up, but now that he was awake, he wasn't sure he could handle it. Had he woken up as Harry, things would have been easier. Draco could have handled that rejection since he would've known Harry had no memories of the last week. But a rejection now would be too painful.

"I can't." Draco shook his head, gathering the newspaper he had read over and over a few times. "I—I just wanted to make sure he was okay. He is. I'm going to get one with my life." He said without really looking at Hermione or Ron.

"Draco—" Hermione started after him, but Ron pulled her back as the blonde took off quickly towards the floo.

"Just let him go, Hermione. Harry probably doesn't want to see him anyway." Ron said. Hermione glared at her husband a little. Despite explaining it to him a thousand times since his return a few days ago, he still didn't understand that there might be an attraction between the two men.

Regardless, she let Draco run. Frankly, she was too concerned about Harry to worry about him at the moment.

Harry sat quietly in his room staring out of the window from his bed. The mediwizards had left him about an hour ago after what seemed like an eternity of questions, poking, prodding, and wand waving. He sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest. His mind was finally clear and no longer at war—both sets of memories finally happy to coexist—but now he was tasked with trying to make sense of all of it.

He had created a life for himself outside of Harry Potter. A life that was only incomplete by the lack of his past. Now that he had that past back, he could really be happy in James' life, couldn't he? But, would James' life be the same knowing what he knew now?

Harry was shaken from his thoughts as he heard a knock on his door. "Come in."

Slowly the door opened to reveal a bushy haired girl—no, woman—and a tall and strong red-headed man who resembled, "Hermione! Ron!" His face lit up. To him, it still felt a little like he had not missed a second of time—while he had James' life clearly ingrained in his memory, Harry still felt as if he had seen these two at the trials yesterday. Though, after looking at them and how they have changed in just five years, he knew he had missed so much.

Hermione ran over to the bed and, nearly climbing into it, hugged him tightly. "It's you! It's really you…" she was crying and Harry's heart felt warm as he hugged her back.

"Geeze, 'Mione. Let the man breath!" Ron pleaded next to the bed. Harry swore as he looked over to the man, that his eyes were tearing up a bit. "Good to have you back, mate," the red-head with a grin.

"Good to be back." Harry nodded as Hermione pulled back. She noted that his voice was unsure in his statement, but held a bit of truth.

"How do you feel?" She questioned, eyeing him carefully as she sat down on one of the guest chairs.

"I feel fine, actually. No headache, no confusion. Just trying to understand everything." He shrugged a little, putting on his brave Gryffindor face for his friends.

"Mate, you had us all scared. We thought you were…" Ron trailed off as he sat down.

Harry frowned a little, pulling his knees up to his chest. "I know. I'm so sorry…" he spoke quietly, avoiding the gaze of his friends.

Hermione smacked Ron on the arm, "Oh Harry! It's not your fault! It was out of your control. We're just glad you're here and back to normal."

Harry sighed, giving a small, unconvincing smile. "Me too, I think." Now that he had all of his memories back, he and James were finally one. Though, that meant he had mixed feelings about everything in his life. James represented the part of him that wanted nothing to do with the world he was born into. Yet, as he saw his best friends—his family—sitting in front of him, he was sad he missed it.

"The mediwizards told us that you might not wake up. And if you did you might not have any of your memories. You're lucky to be here, Harry." Hermione smiled, sensing his conflict.

Harry shrugged, "I don't know if it's luck. I chose to come back, with all my memories." Hermione and Ron looked at him confused, and he explained what happened while he was asleep. "I was scared to come back as Harry. It was the life I never wanted, but I was forced to have. I was forced to fight, even after I had defeated Voldemort, I was being cherry picked to become an Auror. I was tired of fighting, even if it was for the good. Too many people died because of me…"

"For you…" Hermione corrected.

Harry continued, "James' memories were of the life I wanted. He was his own man, free to do what he wanted with whom he wanted without having to please anyone but himself. He was never under the watchful eye of thousands of people expecting things of him. And I didn't want to lose that life."

Ron spoke up quietly, "So, why did you come back? If your life was so bad before." He sounded hurt and Hermione's expression mirrored those emotions.

Harry sighed, "I think my mind became James because I was tired of being Harry—surrounded by death and destruction. I served my purpose—I saved the world. It was James' turn to live. James had created a life with relationships and successful achievements. I didn't want to leave all of that behind. But, when I was asleep, I remembered how all of my friends and family fought alongside of me—for me. You all sacrificed so much…" he looked to Ron, "And I didn't want to leave you all behind either. So, I decided that I wanted both lives."

Hermione and Ron stared at Harry. Hermione had tears in her eyes while Ron pretended to sneeze so he could wipe his own. Harry smiled at them, changing the subject, "Okay, enough of that. Tell me what I've missed." He adjusted himself on the bed, looking down at Hermione's hand, adorned with a modest diamond ring. "A lot… I assume?"

The trio talked for hours, about retrieving Hermione's parents and returning their memories. About the small wedding at the Burrow just a few years ago. Ron's career with the English National Quidditch Team.

"You left your tournament to come back here?!" Harry exclaimed, "Bloody hell, Ron! I might have been a vegetable forever, but I wasn't dead!" Ron laughed and they continued chatting as if they hadn't skipped the last five years.

They began to talk about their friends and what everyone had been up to since the war. George had reopened the shop, taking on the help of Luna Lovegood. "She convinced him to sell the Quibbler in store, and after much debating, he finally caved." Hermione said, glowing. Ron rolled his eyes, "Yeah and then he went and fell in love with the silly girl." Harry went wide eyed, "George and Luna? Really?"

Hermione squealed a little, "The wedding is planned for next year!"

Harry laughed at Hermione's excitement. All of his friends had moved on, which was good. He wondered about Ginny. Had she moved on as well?

"How's Ginny, Ron?" Harry asked. The redhead bit his lip a little, looking away. Harry felt nervous all of a sudden.

Hermione frowned, "Harry, you have to understand. When you left she was devastated." Harry frowned, the guilt seeping in. "She was hurting for a long time, just like all of us. Once Hogwarts had been re-built, she went back to start her final year and of course Neville was there as the new Herbology professor…" Hermione trailed off as Harry began to put the information together in his head. "They just shared so much pain that it made sense. He was there for her and she was there for him and… well…" Hermione looked uncomfortable.

Harry nodded, "No, of course. I mean I get it." His voice was sad, but he wasn't heartbroken.

"Sorry mate, she had to move on. And Neville's great, he really is." Ron said with a sheepish look on his face.

"I know," Harry said with a forced smile, "It's better that way. Things with me are… a little complicated anyway." He had Liam in his life, well James did, but Harry knew there was something there. Of course, there was also the matter of Malfoy and whatever the hell was happening there.

"So," Harry changed the subject, "Has anyone else been to visit while I've been here?" He asked casually, hoping for a bit of information on that matter.

Hermione flushed as Ron spoke. "The whole family was here after mom brought you in. In fact you have a box of something called Nargle Nuggets from George and Luna that I would avoid, if I were you." He laughed and Hermione looked knowingly at Harry as Ron spoke.

"Draco has been here the entire week." She said, her voice filled with concern, but her eyes lit up a little like they did when she talked of romance.

"Yeah, I don't know what curse you placed on him, mate, but he's been extremely strange. Obsessed with you." Ron said, flushing. Ron knew exactly what was up with Malfoy, but he was too embarrassed to talk about it.

Harry's heart fluttered a little as his friends spoke. Malfoy was there and he was worried about him. The James part of him was jumping up and down, but the Harry part of him was still so confused by the feelings deep inside. "So, where is he now?"

Hermione bit her lip again, "Well, I don't really know. He took off as soon as you woke up…" she was as confused about this as Harry was.

Ron shrugged, "Good riddance, he was cranky and insufferable. I've gotten used to him over the years, but he was right back to his pratty self while you were asleep."

Harry looked confused, "Used to him? How often do you see him to get used to Malfoy?"

Hermione shrugged, "He's worked with me for four years, Harry. I kind of took him under my wing and he's proven himself to me hundreds of times." She smiled, "He comes to the Burrow for holidays and we take him out for dinner on his birthday."

Harry looked shocked and Hermione gave him a stern look that Harry knew all too well. "Don't you even think about making a comment about it, Harry. He is alone in this world and we are all he has. He is not the same Malfoy you knew in school. He's different. His actions in school were not true to his character. He has a heart, and feelings, and well we love him, don't we, Ron?"

Ron stared wide eyed at Hermione, "Speak for yourself, 'Mione. I tolerate him, but that is where I draw the line."

Hermione crossed her arms across her chest, shooting glares between Ron and Harry. Harry couldn't help but laugh a little. "Okay okay. I believe you, Hermione, I do. It's just… weird. That's all…" He didn't vocalize it, but what was weirder was that he actually did believe Hermione, thanks to what he saw through James.

Ron laughed, "Tell me about it, mate."

Someone cleared their throat at the door, "Mr. Potter." The mediwizard on his case entered. "We just looked over all of the tests we ran when you woke up and we're pleased. There seem to be no ill effects from the memories melding together."

Harry smiled and nodded, "Great, does this mean I can go?"

The mediwizard smiled, "I do not see any reason to keep you here, Mr. Potter. We will get your discharge papers together and you're free to go."

Hermione jumped up after the mediwizard left. "Oh Harry! That is great news! You absolutely have to come back with Ron and I until you get on your feet. We can have Draco send your things."

Ron nodded, "Of course! We'll be able to catch up. I will be home the rest of the off season. We can go visit George and Luna and take the brooms out for—"

Harry cut him off, "Guys, really. Thank you. But, I have a place. I have an apartment in the city. I'd like to go back there, at least for a bit. I have some things to sort out." He said quietly, feeling bad to decline the offer.

Hermione smiled, smacking Ron who looked dejected. "Of course, Harry. You have another life now. You have to try and work on combining the two. Draco mentioned something about someone you were with when he found you…" Hermione eyed Harry carefully.

Harry nodded, not sure he wanted to delve into his personal life right now—especially in front of Ron. "Right. I want to sort some things out. But I promise, you can reach me. If you can get someone from the ministry to approve an addition to the floo network, I'll install a fireplace." He laughed and that seemed to be enough for Ron and Hermione.

After he was given the clearance to leave, Harry gathered the few things he had accumulated in the hospital, said his goodbyes to Ron and Hermione—promising to visit them soon—and disapperated to his apartment. Since Malfoy still had all of his things—including his cell phone—he made his way to the lobby, to use the front desk phone. He dialed the number that was all too familiar to him now.

"Liam. It's me. Can you come over?"


	19. Chapter 19

**{Shit, I was gone for awhile! So sorry. Life got real for a bit and then I smashed my computer into the ground on accident. Whoops. New computer, back to writing! Also, a shameless plug. If you like my writing, check out my blog: .com**

 **The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot!}**

 **Chapter 19**

The buzzer rang and Harry went to the intercom, pressing the button to open the door. He knew Liam would be up in a few seconds, and his stomach was churning. He knew that he had to tell Liam everything, but where would he even begin? He had a whole life to explain.

There was no knock on the door, there was just the sound of air rushing in and the weight of the strong man, wrapped around him, barely letting him breath. Sadness crushed Harry under the weight. He felt every emotion James ever felt for this man, yet he still felt strange to him.

"James… god… it's been two weeks and I haven't heard from you at all!" The man pulled back, tears streaking his eyes. "I was worried, sick, James. I kept my promise and didn't bother you, but…" He sniffled a little, "God, it's good to see you. You look good. Happy."

Strange, he didn't feel happy. If anything, Harry felt sadness, guilt, and fear. Not happiness. "Come on… let's sit down. I have a lot to say…" Harry moved them to the couch, and Liam sat, staring at Harry, waiting for him to speak.

"I am not who you think I am, Liam." Harry says quietly, avoiding the man's glance. When he finally looks up, Liam is smiling a little. Harry raises an eyebrow.

"I know, James. I know what you are." Harry looked confused and James shrugged, "After that man approached us in the street, you attacked him _with magic._ " Liam's eyes lit up at the thought, "I put two and two together. You're a wizard, James." He laughed, clapping his hands together. "I just don't know why you were hiding it after the decree came out. You know I think it's awesome!"

Harry sighed and bit his lip, "Yes, Liam. I am. I'm a wizard. And… well that's not exactly the whole story…" Harry went on to explain everything. Who he was, how he came into this world, about Voldemort and their battles. The final battle and what drove him to become James.

"I created a new life for myself and repressed the old life." Harry said, almost ashamed. Liam listened intently, never interrupting, soaking it all in. After Harry explained how he came to be James, Liam finally spoke.

"That man… who we saw. You knew him…" it wasn't a question, but a realization. "He was an enemy in your old life?" Liam asked, concern.

Harry smiled a little, "Not really an enemy. More like a rival. We fought on different sides, but I don't think he ever really wanted to hurt me." Harry thought for a moment, "Nor I, him."

"And he was the one who helped you get through this…" Liam realized, "He helped you put yourself back together." Liam smiled a little, "I should thank him myself. He brought you back to me."

Liam's happiness and willingness to understand made Harry's heart hurt even more. "Liam, there's more that I need to tell you."

Harry stood up, running his hand across his neck. Liam watched, knowing whatever it was was not easy for the man to say. "You were my first friend in this life. You took me in, you helped me get on my feet. I—I owe everything I have now to you." Liam went to speak, but Harry cut him off, "But I haven't been fair to you, Liam. You want something from me that I could never and still cannot give you."

Harry looked to Liam, who's face had become dark and confused. "I care so deeply for you, Liam, but I don't think that I can ever love you like you love me." Liam winced a little and Harry looked away, "When I met you, I had no past. I felt an emptiness that could never seem to be filled. I always told myself that was why I couldn't give you what you wanted—something was missing in my life and I wasn't ready to give what part of me I knew to someone else."

"But you have that part back now, Ja—Harry." Liam said, standing, moving to Harry. He reached out to grab the man's hand. "You are finally whole again, and now you can let me in."

Harry shook his head, "It's not that easy, Liam. I have a past now, and there are things in that past— _people—_ in that past that…"

"Oh." Liam said, dropping Harry's hand. "Oh. Oh my god. Of course…" Liam was the one who looked foolish now. "Of course you had someone else before me and now that you remember…" He sat back on the couch, looking deflated.

Harry sighed, sitting next to him. "That man you saw, my rival, his name is Draco. We were never friends. We hated each other—or rather, we thought we hated each other, but we really hated our lot in life. We were forced upon different sides of a war neither of us wanted to fight."

Liam nodded, "You loved him." He spoke sadly.

Harry laughed, "No…" he said it more as a question than an answer. "I don't know, Liam. Something happened while he was helping me through this. I saw him for who he really was, not my rival. And he… he kissed me." Harry hung his head, "I feel so guilty about it. I can't believe that I led you on like that and let someone kiss me and…"

Liam laughed a little, "You told me from day one that you couldn't promise me anything. I can't really blame you for feelings you had repressed from your school days."

The two were quiet for a moment before Liam spoke again, "Did you kiss him back." Harry nodded, "And now that you're you again, Harry… do you still have those feelings?"

"I don't know…" Harry sighed.

"Then I won't stand in your way." Liam said sadly, but with a smile. "I love you, James…. Harry… whoever you are. I love you. I always will. But more than that, I still want to be your friend. I would hate for you to be out of my life over a stupid blonde…"

Harry's eyes lit up as Liam spoke, "You… you mean that?" His voice was quiet and awed.

Liam shrugged, "Of course I do. Why would I give up our friendship, just because I want to shag you senseless when I see you?" Harry flushed at the last comment and Liam laughed. "I love you so much because of the friendship that we have. I can move on past an attraction to you. Sure, I think we would be brilliant together, Ja—Harry. Fuck, that is not going to be easy for me to get used to…"

Harry laughed, "Then call me what you always call me." Liam smiled.

"I think we would make a remarkable couple, _Flash_." He grabbed Harry's hand and squeezed it, "But more than anything I want to see you like this—really, truly happy. If that means I move on, then so be it."

Harry couldn't help himself, he leapt forward, crashing into Liam and hugging him tightly. "I love you, mate. So much."

He stayed in Liam's embrace for a little longer than a friend should, before Liam pulled back and sighed, "Okay. Now you have to fill me in on your past, Mr. Potter. I want to know every detail!"

The two men talked for hours—Liam relishing in all of the details of Harry's life as if it were a novel.

Draco stood in the shower, letting the heat cascade over his body. He had been in there for the last hour since he had gotten home from the hospital. His head was spinning and he felt sick to his stomach. Harry was awake and he remembered everything. He remembered their past and he remembered their present and he remembered the kiss and it all hurt Draco. What would Harry think of it all? He wasn't sure that he wanted to face the potential rejection. Not now.

His mother had been released from Azkaban. He knew that he had to go and see her, it was expected of him. But, if confronting feelings for Potter was difficult, confronting his feelings towards his mother was going to be even more difficult. His flesh and blood, the only Malfoy that was currently alive, was returning home to him. He should be elated. He wasn't.

He knew that Lucius controlled them both, but his whole life he had hoped that his mother would have stood up to his father. He knew she wanted no part of the Dark Lord's plans, just like he didn't. But she followed obediently at Lucius' feet. She was weak, and Draco hated her for it. She stood idly by—pushing him, her only child, to a life of danger and death rather than confronting the monster that was his father.

Yet, it was his mother. And they were both simply a product of evil men.

He slammed his fist into the wall, cussing at the pain and frustration. After another length of time, he finally got out of the shower and forced himself to ready for a trip to Malfoy Manor.

Malfoy Manor sat up on a hill in the country. Structurally, it was the same house Narcissa had left behind 5 years ago—the same dark shutters against a brick façade. Though, even on the outside, she could feel the emptiness inside. Her husband, gone. Her son, not willing to speak with her. The stale stench of death still filled the air as she approached the front door.

A big red "M" was glowing on the door—the Ministry's mark that this house had been cleared. She sighed as she opened the door. The inside looked as if a storm had come through and destroyed everything she loved. She gasped a little as she looked at books and papers all over the floor. Her antiques were strewn across the floor in every room—most in pieces. The Ministry took no care to preserve her life while they ransacked her home after the war.

In some way, she couldn't blame them. She was an enemy of the wizarding world because of her husband and his allegiances. Her husband dragged her into this mess. She wanted no part of the Dark Lord and his ways. Her husband put her and her son at risk for their entire lives and this was what she had left to show for it. Nothing. She held back tears as she moved through the rubble, stopping on a photo of her son, Draco as a baby. She held the photo to her heart as she let the tears fall.

She stood like that for a while, just crying, until she heard the crunch of a footstep behind her. She spun around and was met with the smooth crisp features only a Malfoy could possess. Silver eyes were framed by a sickly pale face and long blonde hair that fell smoothly around thin shoulders. An unsettling grin broke open through dark black lipstick as the young woman spoke.

"Hello, Mother." The girl hissed in an American accent, her sleek wand drawn and pointed at Narcissa's chest.


	20. Chapter 20

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot!}**

 **Chapter 20**

 _July 5_ _th_ _, 1977_

 _Narcissa's long blonde hair was sticking to her forehead as she squeezed the sheets of the bed she was laying in. The midwife was telling her something, but she was too focused on pushing through the pain to understand the words. She wished that Lucius was here, but he was on official ministry business—at least that is what he had said when he left the house that morning. He wasn't to return until tomorrow. She had suspicions that it had nothing to do with the ministry at all._

 _"Push, Narcissa. The baby is almost here!" The midwife yelled as Narcissa squeezed her eyes shut screaming out in pain with one final push. She felt her body relax immediately and she fell back against the pillow as she stared at the midwife cleaning up her baby. Her heart fluttered when she heard the cry._ My baby… _she thought as the baby was cleaned, swaddled and brought over to her._

 _"Congratulations, Narcissa. It's a girl." The little wizard was placed into her arms, which were shaking now. She stared at her baby in disbelief. "A-a girl? Are you… are you sure?" Her voice was pained and scared._

 _"There's no doubting it. She's a beautiful, healthy baby girl." Narcissa stared after the midwife as she began to clean up the room. A girl. A beautiful baby girl. She was sure it was a boy. It had to be a boy. She looked to make sure and her heart sank. All Lucius wanted was a boy, an heir._ "There is no room in our bloodlines for a female, Narcissa. We will have one child, a boy, to be the heir to our name."

 _Narcissa began to weep as she looked down at her beautiful baby girl. What would Lucius think when he looked into her eyes? Would he love her as much as Narcissa already did? Would he look past his need to continue the Malfoy name?_ "There is no room for a female…" _She replayed his words in her head over and over, and long into the night after the midwife had left._

 _As the sun began to shine, she knew what had to be done. She wrapped her little one in a soft blanket, and packed up a small bag of things before leaving the manor with a flick of her wand—her baby clutched to her tightly._

She arrived at the small cottage on the hill. The sun was just peeking up over the hill and it was reflecting off of the tears sitting on the edge of her eyes. She approached the door and knocked. A small, pink-haired, little girl answered. Here eyes were wide as she stared up at Narcissa with the small infant. "Mommy!" She yelled, running back into the house. A few moments later, Andromeda approached, her eyes widening as a gasp escaped her lips.

 _"'Cissy?!" She exclaimed. She could sense the worry and fear on her sisters expression and gasped a little at the newborn clutched to her chest—her worry for her sister almost penetrated the animosity she had built up over the years._

 _"Andromeda. Please. I can't stay long, b-but you have to help." She whispered, looking around to make sure she wasn't seen. Andromeda nodded, pulling her in and to the study. The pink-haired girl moved to follow, but Andromeda turned, "Nymphadora. Go into the garden and play." Her voice was stern, but sweet and filled with love. Narcissa couldn't help but choke back tears as she pictured herself like that with her sweet child._

 _The door to the study was closed and Andromeda looked at the infant in her sister's hands. "She's beatufiul, 'Cissy." Andromeda cooed a little at the baby and Narcissa began to weep a little. "He will kill her, Andromeda. He wants an heir and he will make no room for a female in our bloodlines. I was so sure… I was so sure it was a boy." She rocked her baby against the chest._

 _Andromeda frowned, "'Cissy. You're overreacting. Lucius loves you and he will love her like I know you already do."_

 _Narcissa looked at her sister with eyes wide and filled with fear. She shook her head. "You do not understand. Something is happening. Our world is about to change and he wants to make sure that there is an heir in place when it does." She shivered as she revealed her own fears about her husband's mysterious activities over the last few months._

 _Andromeda stared at her sister. She had never known her sister to be so emotional. She was typically cool and calm—keeping her proper exterior. Something had shaken her and she knew that her sister's fear for her little girl was warranted. "What do you want me to do?"_

 _"You have to take her. Far away. I do not want her anywhere near this country when…" She trailed off, already having said too much._

 _"'Cissa…" Andromeda reached out her hand and Narcissa shrugged it away._

 _"No. Andromeda, this is a demand. Not a request. Take her. Take her to… America. Far away from here. Far away from Him. Please. She deserves to live." Narcissa's voice was quiet but firm. Andromeda couldn't argue._

 _"Okay. I'll take her. She will be safe. I promise." Andromeda reached out for the baby, and Narcissa couldn't look at her as she handed her over. She stood up immediately and moved for the door. She had to leave._

 _"Narcissa!" Andromeda called. She never called her sister by her full name. Narcissa paused, not looking back. "What is her name?"_

 _Narcissa bit her lip, "Drusilla." She spoke sadly before quickly leaving the study and out the front door._

Narcissa stumbled backwards out of shock as she stared at her daughter. Her heart stopped as she tried to find the courage to speak. "Dru—Drusilla…" she stuttered.

The young woman's eyes lit up as she heard her name from Narcissa's lips. "So you do remember me." She twirled her wand through her fingers as she stared down at her mother. "I thought you might have forgotten me after all these years." The corners of her mouth turned up into a rather malicious sneer.

Narcissa was frozen against the leather arm chair that was covered in dust from the rubble. "H-how… how did you find me?"

Drusilla laughed in a high pitched tone that cut through Narcissa's chest, settling in her churning stomach. "Apparently, I'm a _Malfoy_." She said the name with a coldness that sent a shiver down Narcissa's spine, "Do you really think me that stupid to not be able to track down my own family?"

Drusilla raked a slender finger over her wand which was still aimed towards Narcissa. "Besides, I had motivation, _mother_." She casually strolled to the bookcase, where what few tomes remained sat untouched for several years. She let her wand drag across the books as she circled around Narcissa. "I can't believe that you didn't make her a Secret Keeper. One round with the Imperius Curse and I had her babbling like a brook."

Narcissa was trying to process everything that was being said, and her heart stopped as she had a realization. "Andromeda…" she croaked out. "What did you do to her?"

Drusilla shrugged, smiling a little. "I got the information I needed and then I killed her," she said simply.

Narcissa gasped, tears welling in her eyes. "What do you want with me?" Her voice was shaky and not above a whisper.

Drusilla's face changed quickly as she swooped in on Narcissa, her wand up at her throat. Her eyes were wild and her features sharp. "I want _nothing_ to do with you." She hissed. Then, her features softened a little and she eased up on the wand, still hovering over Narcissa. "I came looking for someone else. I think his name is Draco." She flashed her evil grin at Narcissa.

Narcissa was shaking. No. Not her baby boy. Not her Draco. She managed to keep him safe this long. "You stay away from him!" She mustered up enough confidence to speak firmly towards the young woman threatening her.

Drusilla rolled her eyes, "Really, mother. I killed your sister simply because I could. Do you really think I am not going to fight you on this? You. The piece of shit who abandoned me?" She laughed shrilly, as she swished her wand over Narcissa, binding her wrists to the legs of the chair she was leaning against. She quickly positioned herself over her mother, straddling her and pinning her to the ground.

Narcissa began to struggle, but the weakness from her stint in Azkaban coupled with her bound arms made it difficult. She was crying now. "Please, Drusil—"

" _Don't_ speak my name again." Drusilla hissed, spitting in her face, her eyes flashing darkness. She took her wand and began to trail it over her mother's chest and down to her abdomen. Her features softened again and she was almost smiling. "Hmmm now what to do, first…" She let her wand trace the pattern in Narcissa's robe before muttering a spell Narcissa had never heard before.

Searing pain began to fill her stomach as she felt the warmth of her blood soaking through her robes. She screamed and Drusilla laughed maniacally. "Does it hurt, mother?" She laughed again and began tracing her wand across Narcissa's body. "It can all stop if you just tell me where to find Draco."

Narcissa screamed out again, "W-what do you want from him? He's done nothing to you." Narcissa's voice was strained as she gritted her teeth against the pain.

Drusilla smiled sweetly, "Oh. It's not about what he's done to me. It's about what he can do _for_ me." She cast the spell again against Narcissa's chest, the pain immediately taking over Narcissa's consciousness. White heat filled her vision and things started to get blurry as she screamed in response. "Now," Drusilla asked with an eerie calm, "Tell me where I can find my precious baby brother and I will make the pain go away."

The pain was unbearable. She could feel her body giving into the injuries and knew that if she didn't stop Drusilla now, she would die. But that was what it was going to take, because she was not going to put her son in danger. She worked too hard to keep him safe during the war, and she wasn't going to let all of that be in vein. Through blurry eyes and clenched mouth, she stared at Drusilla and spoke with conviction, "Never."

Drusilla stopped her movements over Narcissa's body. She stared down at Narcissa, her face twisted in confusion—as if she were battling herself over her next move. Then, her face snapped back to its malicious state and she let a slow grin creep into her features. "That's okay," she said simply, "I would have killed you anyway." And with that, her wand created a long streak from Narcissa's chest down to her navel. Narcissa screamed and as she did, Drusilla bent over her mother, speaking in a very calm and melodious tone.

"For sacrifice to the powers that be, her magic I take within me." She repeated the chant over and over. Narcissa's body felt as if it were on fire. She could feel her insides screaming in pain, but no sound was coming out of her mouth. Her body felt weaker than it did just moments before and it felt as if the life was being sucked out of her. She closed her eyes and pictured her baby boy—living happy somewhere in this world. His beautiful silver eyes lulled her into a calm as her body and soul began to disappear.

Draco stood outside the manor for what seemed like hours. The sun was setting and the stars were beginning to sparkle against the purple and blue hues of twilight. He sighed deeply before he knocked on the door. The door pushed open and Draco raised an eyebrow in concern. His mother should have been home by now.

He stepped into the dark house cautiously, his hand instinctively reaching into his pants pocket for his wand. "Mother?" he called out quietly with no response. It looked as if no one had been here in years—the rubble from the war and the product of the Ministry search was still covering the floors. He stepped over a pile of papers as he entered the parlor. "Mother?" His voice was a bit higher as it was laced with concern.

He moved through the parlor and into the kitchen with no sign of Narcissa anywhere. He peered out into the garden, saddened by the overgrown grass and tangles of weeds. His once beautiful home was barren and dead. He moved towards the study and could smell it before he saw it.

His stomach churned as the metallic scent filled his nostrils. He knew something was wrong before his eyes reached the floor to see his mother, tied to an overturned chair, her once bright skin now ashy and blue and surrounded in a pool of her own blood.

He calmly walked over to where his mother lay. He knelt down, his hand shaking and tears filling his eyes as he touched her hand—it was freezing cold. His stomach heaved and he turned to the side, vomiting as he came to the realization of his mother's cruel death.


	21. Chapter 21

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot!}**

 **Chapter 21**

Harry stood back a bit from his new fireplace. He had finished the spells to build it into his apartment wall earlier and had just received an owl from the ministry telling him that they have received his request to be added to the floo network and he was now active.

Liam had watched with awe the entire time, now standing next to Harry in amazement. "Bloody brilliant!" He moved to the fireplace, running his finger along its edges. He bent down to inspect the insides, amazed at how simply Harry had created something where it shouldn't be. As he bent, the flames flicked to life and a face appeared. He yelped and jumped back, falling into Harry.

Harry wrapped his arms around Liam to catch him, laughing a little as he saw the face in the fire. "Don't worry, mate. That was pretty much my first reaction, too." He clapped Liam on the shoulder, who was staring wide eyed at the pretty girl in the flames.

"Hermione, I was just connected. You couldn't have waited a day to let me get settled?" He laughed a little, but his smile quickly faded as he read her face. She was worried and glancing between Harry and Liam.

"Harry, I think you should come to the Burrow." She said through the flames, looking at him with worried eyes. Harry knew that look. He knew not to argue and he nodded as she disappeared. He looked to Liam who was staring blankly at the fireplace.

"I get it, you have to go…." He said, still looking at the fireplace, "But when you come back— _and you will come back—_ you are going to explain _that_ to me!" He said pointing at the fireplace. A small smile crossed Harry's lips as he stared at his friend, trying to contain his worry.

In that moment, Harry was wishing he was James. He wasn't in this world for more than a day before something bad was already happening. What he wouldn't give for the happiness he had just a month before. Yet, somewhere deep inside of him, the Gryffindor bubbled with the excitement of whatever challenge was presenting itself.

He moved to Liam and gave him a quick hug. "Thank you." He murmured, pulling back a little. "Thank you for understanding everything and for not running away from this—from me." Liam smiled a little, his heart beating fast as Harry touched him. He was going to have to get used to his feelings and move past them if he wanted their friendship to continue.

Harry grabbed his wand from his pocket as Liam headed for the door. Before he stepped out, Harry called after him. "I will be back. I promise," he said with certainty before apparating and leaving Liam dumbfounded at the door.

Molly was seated at the table in the Burrow kitchen with a little, sandy-haired boy. He was playing quietly with a small badger toy that was charmed to play back. He was smiling at the toy, but his features looked sad and confused. Molly sighed as she watched him, looking up only as she saw Harry at the back porch. He opened the door and her eyes brimmed with tears. "Oh, Harry!"

She ran to him and pulled him into a deep embrace. Her emotions were swirling in her features—seeing Harry, the real Harry back where he belonged, and dealing with the news of the day was posing to be too much to keep to herself. She pulled back and gave Harry a sad smile, "It is so wonderful to have you back, Harry."

Harry smiled softly and looked over to the boy who was watching him with wonder now. Harry looked to Molly, and in a low voice asked, "Who's that?" Molly smiled sadly, holding back tears. "You should go into the living-room, dear. Hermione can explain." Harry nodded as Molly went back to the little boy at the table. As Harry made his way into the living room he swore he heard her say softly to the young boy, "That is your godfather, Teddy."

As Harry entered into the living room, Hermione was sitting on the floor with a giant book in her lap. She was intently focused on what she was doing and didn't notice Harry until he cleared his throat. "Oh!" She exclaimed as she looked up, "That was fast!" She stood quickly and hugged Harry tightly, "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry. I didn't want to bother you with anything like this, but…"

Harry pulled back and stared at Hermione, "'Mione, just tell me what's going on."

She sighed and bit her lip. "Draco's mom was released from prison earlier today. That's why he wasn't at the hospital this morning when you were released." She sighed and looked to the floor, the words difficult to say. "She's been murdered." She said quietly, searching Harry's eyes, "Draco found her."

Harry's features remained calm, though they darkened a little at the news. His insides, though, churned with fear, anxiety, and sadness for Draco. He nodded and went to speak but Hermione cut him off. "Th-that's not everything, Harry. Andromeda Tonks was found dead as well. Yesterday. She had been dead for some time. Discovered only when Teddy wandered to the local village." Tears were in Hermione's eyes as she spoke about the story.

Teddy. Teddy Lupin. Harry's godson. "Oh god…" he muttered, the realization of what that meant hitting him full force in the chest. Teddy had no parents—Lupin and Tonks both died in the war. He was under the care of his grandmother, Andromeda Tonks. And with her dead. What did that mean for Teddy? And what did that mean for Harry?

Harry stood in silence as he processed his thoughts on the matter. Oddly enough, his mind kept circling around Draco and what he was going through. He knew that Draco kept his emotions regarding his parents to himself, but he had a feeling that this was not easy for Draco. He could tell that Draco loved his mother—versus the feelings he harbored for his father—despite not expressing those emotions. Now, he was alone in the world. No family to call his own.

"Wait. Andromeda. And Narcissa…" Harry pondered out loud. Hermione nodded as Harry connected the pieces.

"Yes, sisters." She said sadly, motioning to the book. "I have been looking through the Black Family history to see if there is some connection as to why they would have both been murdered, but I haven't been able to find anything yet."

Harry nodded and moved to sit on the couch. "What will happen to Teddy?" Harry asked sadly. Hermione sighed, sitting back on the floor. "Well, that has yet to be decided, but for now, the Weasley's have offered to take him in." Harry smiled and nodded. He knew Teddy would be safe with the Weasley's.

He sighed and asked the question he really wanted to know, "And how is Draco doing?" Hermione smiled a little, hearing Harry say the blonde's first name. Her smile was sad, though. "He's put himself into the heart of the investigation. I reckon that it is his coping mechanism. I don't think he's handling things well, though." She flipped through a few more pages and looked back up at Harry, "He's at the ministry now with Arthur. They should be coming here soon."

Harry's heart leapt a little. Draco was coming to the Burrow? He did remember Hermione mentioning that he spent some time with the Weasley's, but he wasn't expecting to see him so soon. He also wasn't expecting the excitement that welled inside of him at the thought. "Oh. Draco is coming here? To the Burrow?" He asked casually, causing a small smile from Hermione.

"Yes. Does that bother you, Harry?" She eyed him curiously and he shrugged.

"I s'pose not." He leaned back into the couch as Teddy came running in. Harry gave him a good look. He could see Professor Lupin's strong features in his face, and he could see Tonks' mischievous expression in his eyes—though, they were a bit sullen now. He swore that his hair had a tinge of blue to it.

"Ms. Molly says I have to go wash up for bed." He bit his lip a little as he looked at Harry. "You're Harry Potter." Teddy said as he looked quickly at Harry before rushing up the stairs. Harry stared after Teddy, his heart hurting for the boy. The boy was orphaned, just like him—and because of him. His features darkened as his past came back to haunt him once again.

Hermione watched Harry closely, "It's not your fault…" she said softly as Harry looked to her, giving her his fake, bravado smile. She smiled back as voices came from the kitchen.

"Oh, but he hasn't eaten anything all day, Arthur!" Molly's soft concern drifted in from the next room over and Harry and Hermione stood to go see what Arthur had found out. He was seated at the table, his head in his hands.

"Molly, I tried to get him to come back with me, but he wanted to be alone. He's gone through a lot today." Arthur looked up at Hermione and Harry, his features brightening. "Harry! My boy!" He stood and moved to Harry, pulling him into a brief, but loving hug. "Good to see you again. So good."

Harry smiled deeply. He had always considered the Weasley's as his true family, and it was wonderful to see Arthur again. "Good to see you as well, Mr. Weasley." Molly couldn't help the tears in her eyes as she watched the exchange.

"Oh! It's just so much to have you back, Harry. Especially now with everything going on." She hugged him tightly again before motioning him to sit down at the table. Hermione sat beside him and looked at Arthur as Molly set bowls of stew in front of everyone. Harry took a whiff and his stomach growled in response.

"So what have you found out so far?" Hermione questioned, stirring her stew with a spoon, but not touching it.

Arthur already had a mouthful in and he swallowed before responding, "Not much. There are no apparent connections to the death—despite the circumstances oddly coincidental." He took another bite and looked around as if he was looking for someone else.

"Teddy is up getting ready for bed," Molly said simply, sitting next to her husband. Arthur nodded and continued.

"Both deaths were completely different. Andromeda was killed swiftly with a curse. But with Narcissa…" His face darkened as he thought back on the scene, "It was almost animalistic. Very bloody. Very cruel. Someone wanted her to suffer." He looked ahead, not at anyone in particular as Hermione and Molly gasped in unison.

Harry shuddered at the thought of Ms. Malfoy's death. Not because he had concern for her, but because Draco was the one to find it. He had lost both of his parents in an act of cruelty, but he was lucky enough to have not been witness to it—at least to not remember it. No child, no matter how old, should have to see their parents dead—especially not in the way Narcissa had been murdered.

The table sat in silence, eating the warm stew, letting it warm their stomachs in an attempt to heal their hearts. Arthur sighed as he finished leaning back. Harry looked at him, "So, what is the plan? What is the Ministry doing to find who killed them?"

"Well, both bodies have been taken to St. Mungo's for examination. They will run some tests to see if they can identify any traces of magical DNA as well as to determine the cause of death. Once we receive that information, we will begin to plan a more intense investigation." Arthur sighed again, "But now, we just wait and heal."

Molly reached out for his hand and squeezed it gently. He looked back at her and smiled and then addressed the rest of the table. "There will be services for Andromeda after her body is returned. The same for Narcissa if Draco wishes."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck a little, "How is Draco?" he asked Arthur. He wondered why he didn't come back to the Burrow, but he could imagine that he just wanted to be alone for a bit.

Arthur sighed, "Hard to say. He was very much business at the Ministry. Making orders and arranging transportation of the bodies. He's hurting, though, I think more than he will ever let on. He said he was heading back to his house to see if he could find anything of useful information there."

Harry nodded and thought for a moment. He knew where Draco lived. He remembered it almost perfectly. He could go and check on him himself. Before he had a chance to think about it, he was already up, taking his dish to the sink.

"Oh, Harry! Leave that, I will take care of it!" Molly said, jumping up.

Harry smiled and addressed the room, "Thank you Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley. The meal was wonderful, but I think I need to head back to my place for the night. I'm feeling quite tired."

"Oh of course! Heavens, you just came home and here we are keeping you away from the comfort of your bed." Molly pulled him into a hug and he caught the knowing and curious glance from Hermione over her shoulder. "Go home, and rest. You have to come for dinner tomorrow night, though. We'll have the whole family here. They've been pestering me about you all day!"

Harry smiled and nodded. "Of course, I will be here." He smiled and shook Arthur's hand. He gave Hermione a glance, one that told her not to worry and then he swiftly apparated from the kitchen.


	22. Chapter 22

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot!}**

 **Chapter 22**

Harry landed just outside of Draco's house. The front porch light was casting a soft glow onto the cement patio where the day's issue of the Prophet lay. Harry picked it up absentmindedly, shocked to see a photograph of himself blinking in the sunlight as he left St. Mungo's. The headline read, "The Boy Who Lived Returns!" He rolled his eyes a little, stuffing it in his pocket to bring in for Draco before knocking.

The door opened and he looked down to see Harpy, her eyes lighting up. "Mister Harry Potter has returned!" She squeaked with delight and Harry couldn't help but smile. "Oh come in, come in! Mister Potter let Harpy make you something to eat."

Harry followed her in as she closed the door behind him. "Hello Harpy. Thank you, but I'm here to see Draco."

Harpy wrung her hands a little. "Oh no. Master Draco is not having visitors. He is not feeling well." She looked nervous and Harry raised an eyebrow.

"He's not feeling well? Where is he?" Harry asked, moving into the house and looking around. He could see a fire in the study and assumed he would find Draco in there. Harpy stepped between him and the door.

"Master Draco asked Harpy to leave him alone, Mister Potter. Harpy is not wanting to upset Master Draco when he has the bubblies." She covered her mouth as if she had said too much and began to bite her lip very hard, making her eyes water.

Harry rolled his eyes, and handed her the prophet to distract her as he slipped past her into the study. Draco was slouched in his armchair by the fire. There was a tumbler in his hand that was half filled with a caramel colored liquid. Harry assumed it was firewhisky. Draco turned around at the sound of the door opening. His face was dark and his eyes were red. Though, Harry thought a smile twitched at the corners of his lips—quickly tucked back into a frown.

"Potter. What're you doing hic-ere?" Draco's tone was cool, though his words slurred. Harry noted that while he was referred to with his rivalry name, the blonde's voice was not filled with the usual malice. Could be the liquor coursing through his blood, but Harry hoped somewhere deep inside of him that it was something else entirely.

"I came to check on you." He said simply, his voice not giving away his concern for the blonde. "I was at the Burrow. Arthur told me what happened." Harry moved toward the fireplace, standing awkwardly next to the chair, not really looking at Draco. Both men stared into the flames, Draco occasionally taking a swig of his drink until after about fifteen minutes, it was empty. He sighed, and poured himself another glass from the bottle on the end table. A bit of the liquid sloshed out over the glass as he did so.

Harry watched the man carefully, unsure how to approach. His mind was torn between the distant past—their rivalry—and the more recent past—his time with Draco as James. He didn't know how to handle the situation, so he just let his heart take over. His heart wanted Draco to not hurt.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked, looking over to Draco.

Draco let out a cold laugh. "Talk abouwhat, Potter?" This time the name had a bit of an edge to it. "There's nothing to say. She's dead. Dead dead dead." Draco sang the words as if it was the beginnings of a nursery rhyme. Harry's heart ached as he watched Draco fall apart. Maybe this was what it was like just a week ago—when Harry was the one unstable and broken.

Draco looked up at Harry finally, his eyes curious. "Why're you 'ere?" He slurred at Harry.

"I told you, I wanted to check on you." Harry said simply.

Draco shook his head, "But why?"

Harry sighed and shrugged, "I don't know. I was worried about you when I found out what happened."

Draco furrowed his brow in frustration. He downed the rest of his beverage, setting his glass on the end table. He braced his hands on the chair and began to speak, "But, _why?"_ He whined a little as he stood up and immediately went tumbling towards the floor.

Harry's Seeker reflexes kicked in and he swooped in to catch Draco before he hit the floor. Draco was laughing now. Harry stared at him as he realized there were some tears mixed in with his laughter. Harry stood Draco up and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. "I think it's time to get you up to bed." He said to the blonde who was barely with it enough to protest.

Harry helped Draco up the stairs, despite protests from Harpy to help, and into his bedroom. The room was as he remembered it. The crack in the closet door was still there from when Harry sent Draco flying into it a week prior. He winced a little as he remembered.

Draco didn't protest much as Harry pushed him onto the bed. His mind was swirling with too much alcohol to do much of anything other than comply. The sober part of his mind—which was small at this point—took note at how gentle Harry was being with him. It made his stomach warm at the thought.

Harry situated Draco in the bed, leaving him fully clothed (he wasn't about to undress the man). He sat on the edge of the bed as Draco got comfortable and began to dose of. As Draco was quietly breathing and falling into sleep, Harry thought about Draco's question. Why was he worried about him? Sure, Draco was the reason he was back. And he owed him for that, but he knew that Draco would have been just as well off without him there this evening. No, he knew that deep down this was just as much for his own benefit than Draco's.

The feelings he felt for Draco when he was living in James' mind were real. And they were not going away. It was a combination of both of their minds and the realization that their rivalry really was just a product of war. And maybe there was some other motive behind his obsession with Draco during their school days. Harry stared down at the man, now snoring, on the bed. He took note of the pale skin that almost sparkled against the soft bedroom lights. His platinum hair, that fell against his forehead, just dusting his silver eyes. He could feel his hand reaching out and stopped himself before he did anything stupid.

He had feelings for Draco Malfoy and that was why he was there.

"Shit." He muttered to himself as he came to the realization.

The sun was burning a hole in Draco's forehead—or at least that was what it felt like. He groaned loudly as he pulled the covers over his head to drown out the excruciating rays that were bearing down on him from the window. Why did he do that to himself last night? He forgot that his body was not as young as it once was and couldn't handle liquor the way it did in his school days. He could barely remember how he got up to his bedroom.

And then it dawned on him. Harry got him up to the bedroom. He remembered being carried up by his strong arms. Laying in bed while Harry watched over him. He pulled the covers off of his face then, wincing at the brightness and sitting up. There he was. Slouching against the wall, fast asleep.

Draco could barely believe it. He stayed. He stayed with him overnight. But why? What reason would Harry have to stay? Was it pitty? Was it a mission—did the Weasley's put him up to it? Or was it something else? Draco hoped it was something else.

Harry wasn't really asleep. He had woken up long ago when the sun first began to peer into the room. Frankly, he didn't sleep much. He spent most of the night wrestling with his own thoughts about Draco. The occasional hero thought crossed his mind—who was responsible for the deaths of the Black sisters and what was the motive behind them? But mostly, his thoughts revolved around the Slytherin asleep in the bed.

He heard Draco moving about in the bed as he awoke. And through mostly lidded eyes he could see that he was being watched. "How are you feeling?" He asked as Draco stared at him.

Draco jumped a little, not expecting him to talk. "How long have you been awake?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Long enough to watch you battle the sun with your blankets." Harry opened his eyes and gave a small smile, sitting up fully. He pulled his knees up to his chest, crossing his arms and resting his chin on them. "Head hurt?" He asked, with a knowing grin.

Draco winced a little, "I forget that I cannot handle my liquor like I could in my school days." He said cooly, with a sheepish smile. He looked at Harry for a bit, biting his lip a little. "You didn't have to stay."

Harry smiled a little as Draco spoke, flushing a bit before he responded. "I wanted to."

Draco couldn't help the small smile that came across him. It would have been much bigger had he not felt like he was about to expel last night's activities from his mouth at any second. He frowned a bit as his stomach lurched and stood up, stumbling just a bit. Harry stood. "I'm fine." He said holding out a hand to stop Harry. "I just have to… well… I'm not feeling so well." He flushed a bit in embarrassment.

"Oh!" Harry said, feeling sorry for Draco. He had never really been one to drink—not even in the muggle world as James. He had never experienced the feeling of a hangover, but he had witnessed Liam's on several occasion and knew they were awful. "I'll see myself out." Harry made for the door.

"No!" Draco exclaimed, flushing as he realized how desperate that sounded. "I mean. Don't go. I'd like to talk. I just want to clean myself up. If that's okay?" He was suddenly feeling nervous as he realized that Harry seemed to be looking past their past—something he was not prepared for when Harry woke up the day before.

Harry startled a bit as Draco stopped him from leaving. He smiled a little, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, okay. I'll um… I'll make us something for breakfast." He said awkwardly as Draco nodded, heading into the master bath.

After fending off Harpy and her push to make breakfast instead, Harry began to grab his ingredients for a simple frittata. As he cooked, he thought about what Draco had said. He wanted to talk. But about what? Did he need someone to talk to about what had happened? Did he want to talk theories, get Harry's help with the case? Or was there something else he wanted to talk about—something more on his mind—maybe about what was happening between them and what had happened a week ago when they kissed.

Harry shivered a little as he thought about it. He still wasn't sure how he felt about Draco. He was able to recognize that he cared for the man, but he wasn't sure where that was coming from. The logical answer was that it was coming from sympathy. He truly felt for Draco, what he was forced to go through as a child, and what he was going through now. Yet, Harry knew that there was something more. Draco had saved his life, much like he had saved his. And the fact that they had both done that despite their bitter rivalry lead Harry to believe that both of them had been harboring a concern for the other for a long time.

Harry was interrupted from his thoughts as Draco cleared his throat. Harry jumped a little, causing the pan to rattle on the stove. He turned to see Draco, who's hair was wet and hanging in his eyes a bit. He had put on a pair of pajama bottoms and a Quidditch t-shirt. Harry smiled warmly, containing the butterfly in his stomach upon seeing Draco. Yes, definitely something more.

"Thanks for cooking." Draco said quietly, sitting down at the kitchen table as Harry turned the stove off and served the frittata onto two separate plates. He set a side of fruit alongside of it—which Harpy had more than willingly cut up for them as Harry cooked.

"Of course." Harry said simply, sitting across from Draco. The two ate in silence for a while. Harry watched Draco carefully, eventually speaking up. "How are you feeling?"

Draco shrugged, "A little bit of a headache, but much better after my shower. Thank you." He smiled warmly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes which were still dark.

Harry bit his lip a little, setting down his fork. "I mean how are you feeling… about what happened?" Harry asked carefully. Draco froze a little, his face turning blank. Harry immediately felt bad for asking.

"What is there to feel? I haven't seen her in five years, and she wasn't a mother to me long before that time. She is dead. It is as simple as that." Draco didn't flinch as he spoke, but Harry could tell that the words were not truthful. He opted not to push any further.

"So," Harry said after a few minutes, "What did you want to talk about?" Draco had mentioned he wanted to talk. Clearly he didn't want to speak about his mother, so Harry was curious as to why Draco wanted him to stick around so eagerly before.

Draco bit his lip a little. He wanted to talk about why Harry had really stayed last night. He wanted to talk about the kiss they shared before Harry went into the hospital. He wanted to talk about the whole week prior and the feelings he felt and the ones he knew Harry had felt as well. But he couldn't. The truth was that his mother's death was affecting him more than he cared to admit.

Harry stared at Draco during his silence, unsure what to do. Something was plaguing the blonde and whatever it was, he wasn't ready to talk. "Would you like me to go? I can come back later if you want to—"

"No!" Draco looked at Harry with worried eyes. "Please. Just… if you don't mind…" he tried to play it cool again, but his voice was strained as he could feel unwanted emotions creeping up in his throat. "Just stay with me for a bit. I just don't want to be alone right now."

Harry raised his eyebrows at Draco's confession. It was a rare moment to see him this vulnerable and Harry was almost honored that Draco revealed that part about himself. "Of course. Of course, I'll stay."

Draco suddenly felt a pang of guilt. Maybe Harry was politely trying to leave. He did just get home the day before. He hadn't even been able to sleep in his own bed—to process what he had gone through and here was Draco, dragging him back into the mess of the wizarding world he had tried to escape. "No. You're right. Maybe you should go. You just got home and I'm sure you are still dealing with everything that you've gone through. You must be exhausted and you didn't get much sleep and—" Draco was rambling and Harry reached across the table and placed his hand on Draco's. Draco stopped talking immediately and stared up at Harry. Those eyes. Those piercing green eyes. He could feel his breath stutter for a moment.

"I'm staying. I want to stay." It was the truth. Harry wanted to stay. Sure he was tired. Sure he had a lot on his mind, but Draco was a part of that. And just like a week ago, when Harry needed answers—Draco was going to be the one to answer those questions. Even more than that, he knew Draco needed him now, just like he needed Draco when he was the one who was broken.

They finished breakfast in silence and Harpy cleared the dishes away, leaving them with nothing to do. It wasn't this awkward when Harry was James and Draco wished he could have that person back just in this moment. The awkwardness was taxing.

"Maybe we should move to the living room." Draco said, standing and Harry followed suit. Draco seated himself on the couch and Harry wasn't sure where he should sit, so he chose the chair to be safe. Draco turned the t.v. on and put the news on, merely for the noise. He wasn't watching it.

They sat this way for about an hour. Harry tried to focus on the television, but he was so preoccupied with Draco, that he wasn't paying any attention despite his eyes almost burning a hole into the screen. After a while he had had enough avoiding it. "We need to talk about this." Harry said simply.

"I told you. There is nothing to say. She's dead. I've accepted it, I've moved on." Harry frowned a little. While he didn't believe that for a second, that wasn't what he meant.

"No. I mean this. Us." He said quietly, flushing a bit. Draco looked at him wide-eyed. He was not expecting that. He bit his lip—thankful for the distraction away from the topic of his mother's murder, but still nervous about confronting this topic.

He remained silent in thought. He wasn't really sure where to begin. He had told Harry his side of their story, or hinted at it, when Harry was James. And now that he knew Harry remembered, he wanted to know what the Gryffindor thought of it all.

"I think it is only fair that you know my side of the story." Harry said quietly, looking down. Draco looked over to him, his heart beating loudly in his chest. "I don't hate you, Draco. I don't think that I ever really did. I know I said this to you before, but I was going based off of someone else's memory then." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Draco took note that Harry did that quite often when he was nervous.

"I think I was jealous of you, Draco, at the start. You had everything I wanted—money, friends, family—" Draco went to cut him off, but Harry shook his head. "I know now that most of your life was a façade, but then. I didn't know. You had everything to me and you were such a…" Harry thought carefully about his choice of words, but Draco answered for him.

"I was an arse. A royal arse." He laughed a little and Harry laughed as well.

"You were an arse for no reason at all. And then when you started spouting off praises of the Dark Lord. Well, I couldn't handle it. I did hate you then. I hated that you sided with the dark side, because I knew that you didn't want to. You were scared, just like everyone else, but you pretended that you weren't. You just went along with something you didn't believe in instead of standing up for yourself." Harry sighed as Draco looked a bit hurt. "I hated you then, but when I think back about it now, I realize you did all of that because you didn't want to lose what you had. You didn't want to lose your family—your mother especially."

Draco winced a little, looking away from Harry. Harry continued.

"She loved you, Draco. I know that you know that deep down, but I have proof." Draco eyed him curiously as Harry told the story of his mother realizing that Harry was actually alive, asking about her son, and confirming his death to Voldemort.

Draco opened his mouth a little, stunned by Harry's story. "She saved your life because you told her I was okay. She saved your life…"

"…because she knew it was the right thing to do. She was not a Death Eater, Draco. She, like you, was forced into that life because of your father. She loved you and wanted you safe." Harry looked over to Draco and realized that he had a tear coming down his face. Harry stood slowly and moved to the couch, sitting next to Draco. "You're crying…" he said quietly and reached up to wipe away the tear.

Draco grabbed his hand with his own before it could touch his face. Harry's heartbeat quickened at the touch and he could feel the surge of energy on his skin. "Thank you." Draco whispered quietly, staring at Harry.

Harry held onto Draco's hand as it lowered into a more comfortable position. Draco was still crying, and Harry wasn't sure if it was because of his mother or if it was because of Harry's confession. He wanted to say more to Draco. To tell him that all these years, he had a focus on Draco and he was beginning to see that there was something more to it than the fear of an enemy. He couldn't bring himself to do it quite yet, though. And maybe it didn't need to be said. His being here, like this, with Draco—maybe that was explanation enough.

Draco looked down at Harry's hand in his own, smiling sadly at the way it looked. He wanted to say something. Something about Harry's side of their story. Something more than what has been said, but the way Harry talked about his mother had him in a turmoil, and he couldn't stop his emotions from taking over. "Harry?" Draco said quietly after a few minutes. "I think I am ready to talk about it now."


	23. Chapter 23

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot!}**

 **Chapter 23**

"Feeling better?" Harry looked over to Draco, who was sitting cross legged on the couch. They had spent the last several hours talking—well Draco talking, Harry listening. Draco told Harry about his childhood and his relationship with his mother, and father. He went through every emotion he had ever felt and the turmoil inside of him in regard to his parents. It was cathartic for the blonde, and oddly enough, for Harry, too. He didn't realize the animosity Draco had held for his mother, and the hatred that coursed through his veins for his father. Upon that realization, Harry found it quite hard to have hatred for Draco at all.

"I think so." Draco said quietly, giving Harry an honest smile for the first time that day. "I just… I want to find who did this to her. I owe it to her." He said simply. Harry placed a gentle hand on his. For the first time that day, Draco allowed himself to feel it, and he found himself growing nervous. It was odd to him how he so willingly spilled his most intimate details to Harry. He wasn't sure if it was his weakened emotional state, or the fact that he kept seeing Harry as James—the version of Harry he got to know just a few weeks ago. Or maybe it was that something more that kept creeping into their lives—that colored small moments of their bitter past.

"I know. And we will." Harry said matter-of-factly. The "we" wasn't lost on Draco. "I have to go." Harry said rather abruptly, standing. Draco looked hurt at first, but Harry smiled. "Dinner. At the Burrow. Remember?" Molly had sent an owl to Draco earlier that day, inviting him for dinner that evening as well. "I would say we could go together, but I have to go home and put on some fresh clothes." Harry motioned to the clothes he had been wearing the day before.

Draco smiled, standing. "Oh right. Yes. Of course. Go. I've kept you too long." He stood kind of awkwardly in front of Harry, who was staring at him now. There was a moment of silence that neither knew what to do with.

"Right." Harry said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll ehm… I'll see you there."

"You will." Draco responded politely, chewing on his lip a little, not really looking at Harry.

Harry nodded and slipped around Draco. Before he disapparated, Draco turned around. "Thank you." He said softly. Harry smiled shyly and then was gone.

Harry arrived at the Burrow just as the sun was setting. He could see a large wooden table lit up by floating votive candles in the back garden. He heard a familiar voice as he came around the side of the house.

"I think we'll make it, thought. Our offense is not where we need it to be right now, but our Keeper is the best I've seen in ages—even better than you, Ron!" Ginny was chatting to her brothers, George and Ron, at the table. Luna was pouring over the latest issue of the Quibbler, laughing to herself quietly while Hermione busied herself with a book. Harry stepped around the corner of the house and Luna spotted him first.

"Hi Harry!" She said with a calm excitement only she could pull off. Ginny stopped herself mid-sentence and spun around. A young man was standing there, in a pair of dark wash jeans and a grey sweater. His hair was short, but quite unruly. His circular glasses were now replaced with a pair of rectangular, dark rimmed black glasses that framed his green eyes wonderfully. She had prepared herself for this moment all day, telling herself that it wouldn't be difficult. She had moved on; but, to see Harry there, alive, a mere 10 feet away from her—well, it was too much. Her eyes welled up with tears as she ran at Harry.

Harry was hit full force with the strength of a well-toned body—from years of playing Quidditch. Had he been playing himself over the last 5 years, he might not have stumbled back as much. Yet, he did, grasping on to Ginny as she held him tightly. Neither spoke, and Harry was okay with that. He didn't know what he would say anyway. He just took in the familiar scent of lilacs in her hair, and held her as she left a dampness on his shirt.

Draco had come around the corner during the old flame's reunion, arriving not long after Harry. He stared at the scene in front of him. Jealousy gripped at him, but he told himself that this was bound to happen. Everyone thought Harry Potter was dead, after all.

Hermione watched from the table, and carefully read Draco's face as he came upon Ginny and Harry. She smiled a little, hitting Ron on the arm and pointing. His face turned redder than usual as he followed her finger, but strangely, he felt a bit of happiness. Hermione was right. Draco did care for Harry.

Harry pulled back after a while, flushing red as he realized they had an audience. Ginny looked up at him, her eyes flashing a thousand emotions. Harry could tell that she was struggling, and he didn't want her to. Ginny was his first real love, but that had all changed now. She had no reason to feel anything other than happiness with Neville. "Where's Neville, Gin?" Harry said calmly. She smiled, happy to know that he knew and seemed to be okay with it.

"School. He couldn't get away." She said quietly. "I can't believe you're really here…" she said softly. She kissed him gently on the cheek before running back to the table. George and Luna were right there as she left, George pulling Harry into a massive hug, followed by a brotherly ruffle of the hair. "Mate, it is wonderful to have you back." George said, letting Luna in for the next hug.

As Luna pulled back, she waved to Draco who had finally decided to come a little closer. "Hi Draco." She said politely, reaching for George's hand and dragging him back to the table. Harry looked behind him as Draco moved to stand next to him.

"You're lucky Longbottom wasn't here for that. He'd have probably knocked you out." Draco said with a bit of unintentional bitterness in his voice. Harry eyed Draco curiously, a small grin on his face. Was Draco jealous? He rather liked the thought of that.

"She thought I was dead. Can you blame her reaction?" Harry said before moving to the table to join everyone. Draco followed, sitting himself as far away from everyone as possible. He still felt a bit off from the events over the last few days, and wasn't in the mood to deal with everyone's happiness. This was supposed to be a joyous reunion of the adopted Chosen One, but Draco was still dealing with his own problems. He was here merely out of politeness—he was always told it was rude to turn down an invitation. More time spent with Harry was just an added bonus.

Hermione slid over to Draco almost as soon as he set down, letting the Weasley's catch up with their lost adopted son. "How are you, Draco?" She asked with concern in her tone. Draco shrugged, twirling his finger on a loose thread of the white linen covering the picnic table.

"How do you think I am doing, Granger?" She winced a little at his tone, and he forced himself to soften his features a bit at her reaction. He had no reason to be so cruel with Hermione. She was concerned for him, and he appreciated it. He just was not in the mood to talk about things now, after spilling his soul to his former enemy. He sighed. "I'm having a tough time sorting things out, but I will be okay. When we find out who did this to her, I will be okay." He looked at Hermione who smiled at that response.

"I know you will. And you have all of us… and Harry." She added the last bit as if it were a question, digging for any details as to what had been going on between the two over the last day. Without speaking, Draco's flushed complexion gave her the answer and she smiled a little more, patting him on the knee before turning her attention to the rest of the party.

Much to Draco's surprise, the entire party seemed to go without mention of his recent tragedy. He was thankful to have a moment where things were feigning normalcy—if only temporarily. Over the last few weeks, he had forgotten how truly happy he felt being surrounded by the Weasley's. It was hard to swallow their quick acceptance into their family, but he knew that he would never really be alone as long as he had them.

Without knowing it, Harry's own feelings mirrored Draco. He felt a guilt inside of him as he realized that he ran from this—from a family that loved him as if he were one of their own. Family that fought for him and died for him. He was humbled to be back in this world without any fallout from his absence.

The remainder of the evening was uneventful—if you ignore the portion of the evening when George attempted to spike everyone's drinks with Instant Bubblies (a new Weasley product). Arthur ended up being the only victim and laughed joyously when his entire body filled with warmth and he felt the happy buzz of alcohol coursing through his veins. "And without an ounce of liquor—brilliant!" He exclaimed as Molly rolled her eyes, taking the vial from her son.

Teddy remained oddly quiet for a young boy during dinner. He ate in silence as the rest of the table laughed and conversed. It wasn't until everyone was helping to clean up that he tugged gently at Harry's sweater. "Mr. Harry…" he said quietly, catching Harry off-guard. Harry looked down at the young boy, noticing his hair which was radiating a more yellow hue than his normal sandy color.

"What is it, Teddy?" Harry knelt down so he could talk to the boy at his level. Teddy bit his lip, avoiding Harry's gaze, stuttering a little.

"Well, I um… Ms. Molly said th-that you saved the whole world and well I just thought maybe… maybe you could help… find… the bad man." Teddy chewed hard on his lip. Harry was afraid he might pierce a hole right through it. He looked quizzically at the little boy in front of him.

"What bad man, Teddy?" Harry felt like an idiot as Teddy answered.

"The bad man who hurt my grandma." Teddy looked at Harry, his eyes shining. Of course that was the bad man. Of course Teddy wanted resolution and revenge, even if his young mind didn't quite understand the concept. But, getting involved in the investigation meant getting involved in the very thing he wanted to avoid. Yet, he had told Draco he wanted to help—albeit in a moment driven by his heart not his mind. How could he tell Teddy, his godson, no?

Harry placed a gentle hand on Teddy's shoulder, "I will do whatever it takes to find the bad man who hurt your grandma." He said with a conviction and determination that reminded him of his younger, braver days.

Teddy smiled brightly for the first time since he had been with the Weasley's, lunging at Harry and hugging him tightly around the neck before running away into the Burrow. Harry was left in a bit of awe as he felt his heart break and swell at the same time. He had never really put thought towards starting a family. Even in his years in the muggle world, he focused on himself—a bit of selfishness that some might have viewed as deserved after saving the wizarding world. Though now, he felt his heart grow a bit larger to make room for young Ted Tonks. A sense of paternal protection formed within him as he silently vowed to never let anything or anyone hurt Teddy.

In a coffee shop in a town called Hogsmead, Drusilla casually flipped through an article about Harry Potter. She had heard about the wizard, of course. He "saved" the wizarding world from Lord Voldemort—someone Drusilla never quite understood, but had a strange respect for as she learned all about him and his views on No Majs during her research. Apparently, Harry was back and Drusilla couldn't care any less than she did now. So what? Why was this news? It's not like Potter had anything to fight for anyway now that no one was trying to kill him. What about the murders of two innocent people? Didn't anyone care that there was another killer on the loose?

Her eyes skimmed the article simply as a way to pass time. As she paused to take a sip of her drink, her eyes rested on a line that would change the course of her plans.

 _The man who is responsible for the return of The Boy Who Lived is none other than his former rival, Draco Malfoy, who discovered Mr. Potter while he was on duty for the Ministry._

A small grin pulled at the corners of Drusilla's mouth as she read the line over and over again, noting the familiar looking blonde in the corresponding photograph. "Hello, Brother." She muttered to herself as she sipped her drink with a bit less urgency. She knew how to find her brother, now, and she just had to devise a plan on how to do it.


	24. Chapter 24

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot!}**

 **Chapter 24**

The rest of the week was calm. Harry spent some down time at the apartment, enjoying the alone time to work through his thoughts on everything that had transpired over the last few weeks. He knew from the moment he saw that owl fly by his window a few weeks ago that his life was forever going to be changed. Thinking about it in the present, made him smile a little—the same feeling happened when he turned eleven years old and the first owl he saw delivered a letter that would change his life.

He wasn't quite sure if the change was for the good, still. Despite his willingness to come back to this life he still held a fear of the unknown. The current situation with the murders of Andromeda Black and Narcissa Malfoy were weighing on his mind. Was this the beginning of something bigger—another war on the horizon? Would he be expected to fight? Would he be able to stay away from battle? Would he want to?

Of course he would want to. He had something to live for again. When he was James, he had no past. He just existed in the present, living day to day. Now, he had a past, with people he loved. He was back in that life and he felt the strong urge to protect them all again—nothing would ever remove that desire from within him. It was in his blood to protect those he loved.

There was more, though. Ever since Teddy approached him at dinner, his parental feelings for the young boy were growing stronger. Lupin and Tonks entrusted Harry to care for their son. When they died, Harry had failed them. Now that Andromeda was gone, Harry was all that Teddy had left. He owed it to those who died for him to protect their son.

And then there was Draco. His feelings for Draco were strong, but still confusing. How could such strong feelings develop for a former rival in just a short time. The only explanation that Harry could think of was that he and Draco had both been harboring feelings of attraction longer than either had realized. Harry could remember back to his school days. He would spend hours watching Draco, bordering on obsession, trying to catch him in the act of something malicious. He knew to some degree that Draco was never really the threat. Was he just using the young man's association with the Dark Side as an excuse to watch over him? Why else would he have saved him on more than one occasion?

Looking back on the last two weeks, it was easy to see how those feelings could have progressed to the point they were at now. In some ways, Draco was not the same person he was in school, but there were so many aspects of the present Draco that Harry found endearing that were consistent with the Draco of the past. He was extremely determined. He spent all of his precious time determined to bring Harry back from the depths of his mind. He was given that mission and was determined to succeed. How was that different from his determination to please his family—a determination that almost destroyed him in their sixth year. He was witty and smart—characteristics that matured along with him.

But there was more, now. Harry had never seen the side of Draco that expressed such a concern for the well-being of others. Draco actually cared for Harry—he showed him time and again when Harry was staying with him. He was worried for his wellbeing and he never put himself first. Harry could also see the way he interacted with others as completely different. He watched the man change his tone of voice, his features, to soften himself for the benefit of others around him. Even when he was struggling with the turmoil of the loss of his mother—he made sure that those around him did not suffer with him.

Most beautiful of all, was his broken side, however. Harry felt a pang of guilt at his attraction to the damaged soul inside of Draco. His horrible family life, the way he was forced to do something he didn't want to do—he didn't believe in; it all registered with Harry on a personal level. They were more alike than they knew and it allowed Harry to empathize with Draco, for he had felt the same pains.

Harry couldn't deny it—he had feelings for Draco Malfoy. While there was an inherent struggle in that revelation alone, he hated to think about what this meant for his relationship with Liam. Knowing what he knew from his time as James, Harry couldn't deny that he had feelings for Liam as well. Liam was his first friend, and really his only connection to the Muggle world. But, with Liam there was always something missing. As James he was hesitant to start a relationship with anyone because he really had no idea who he was—he had no past. Now that his past was fresh in his mind, it was difficult to have a relationship with Liam.

Liam had never experienced anything close to what Harry had gone through. He came from a cookie-cutter family with a sister, two parents who were still married and lived in a country home. He was raised with all the luxuries money could provide. He went to university and developed a roaring social life. The most traumatic thing that happened to Liam was when his cat died and he couldn't get away from school to be with her in her final moments. How could he share his life with someone who couldn't fathom the darkness in his own life?

But how could Harry expect Liam to remain in his life as it was now—a wizard, a potential for war on the horizon in which Harry would fight without a shadow of a doubt, the possibility of a child to care for if he decided to exercise his rights as godfather, and Draco Malfoy—who wasn't about to disappear from his life anytime soon.

All of this was swirling in his mind one morning when he heard the fireplace roar to life. He looked casually over to see Draco's face, dark with some emotion. "Harry… can I come through?"

Harry stood and walked to the fireplace. "Of course." Harry said with concern and before he had a chance to clear his thoughts and prepare himself for a visitor, Draco was through. The blonde's features were stern and his eyes were filled with an anger Harry had grown to know all too well. Harry watched as the blonde began pacing the apartment.

"They stole her magic." He was muttering, fists clenched at his side. Harry watched with confusion as he tried to process the words.

"Stole her magic? Who stole who's magic?" He asked, moving to Draco. He put his hand on the man's writs, stopping him with a startle. Draco's eyes were wild as he hissed at Harry. "The bastard who murdered my mother. He stole. Her. Magic." His teeth were clenched and his face was turning red. Harry gripped Draco tightly as he tried to ground him and calm him.

"Draco. Sit. You need to sit. Tell me everything that happened." Harry said, leading the man to the couch. Draco sat rigid, as if he were ready to pounce at any moment. He wrung his hands in his lap as Harry stared at him for answers.

"The team at St. Mungo's called for me this morning. They brought me in to confirm that the body they were examining was my mother." Harry noticed the man visibly shudder. "Of course it was her. Of course it was my mother. Why wouldn't it be?" Draco clenched his fists again, "Because they couldn't find her DNA, Harry. Her magic. It was not there. It was gone. Muggle blood tests confirmed that she was, in fact, mother, but her magic was completely gone. As if she was just an ordinary Muggle."

Harry looked more confused than ever. "That can't be possible, Draco. They must be mistaken? You can't just take someone's magic, can you?" Though, as he said it, he realized that anything could be possible. He spent the first eleven years of his life as a Muggle and always felt that he had missed a lot about the wizarding world.

Draco shook his head, "No! I mean. I don't know. They don't know. No one seems to have answers and it is bloody frustrating!" Draco slammed his fist into the couch. Harry was now standing up and pacing a little. His brain had shifted gears completely and he was racking his brain for any ideas.

"Someone has to know something. We just have to find the right person. I'm assuming you've told Hermione. She would know where to look." Harry nodded to himself, looking to Draco. Draco stared at him shaking his head.

"I haven't told anyone, yet. You were the first person I thought to come to." Draco said quietly, his voice changing to a softer tone that made Harry stop in his tracks.

"Oh." Harry said quietly, staring back at Draco. He came to him first. Harry felt guilty for the excitement that warmed his stomach at that thought. He shouldn't be thinking about that during this time. "Well then, we should contact Hermione." Harry rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Draco's glance.

Draco was thankful for Harry's concern, but he felt his own guilt. He knew the savior disappeared from this world because he didn't want to get involved in matters like this anymore and here he was running to the man with the very thing he had disappeared from. "I will. Thank you." He stood and moved to leave. Harry reached out for his hand, turning him back around.

"Where are you going?" He asked concerned, searching Draco's eyes.

Draco's breath caught in his chest for a moment. "To get Hermione's help." He bit his lip a little as Harry watched him.

"Stay. You shouldn't be alone right now. I will get Hermione and Ron over and we can all work on this together." Harry said without hesitation. Draco wanted to stop him, but he couldn't. The truth was he needed Harry to do this. Harry defeated the most powerful wizard the world had seen. He trusted Harry to bring justice to his mother. He pushed his guilt aside and sat back down as Harry called for reinforcement.

Harry sent an owl rather than the floo; he had taken a day trip to Diagon Alley the day before to take out some money, stock up on some necessities that had expired or he had been out of, and to purchase an small barn owl he named Hixus. He felt he could better explain what was going on through owl, giving Hermione time to do some preliminary research before they came. Though, the selfish part of him knew that the owl would take a bit longer and would give him some time alone with Draco.

Draco had watched Harry send the owl—initially wondering why he didn't contact the couple via floo, but thankful in a way that he didn't. He needed to get his emotions in check before he allowed anyone else to see him. For some reason, he trusted Harry to see him like this—more so than he should. Truthfully, he had spent the last few days thinking about just that (much like Harry had done). And he had come to the same conclusion—his feelings for Harry had spanned more years than he had thought. They were stronger now, especially in this moment, as Harry came to the couch with a cup of tea with lemon from the kitchen.

"Here, drink this. I took the liberty of putting a small bit of calming draught in it." He smiled warmly and Draco couldn't help but return the smile. He sipped the tea, letting the draught relax him a little. The two sat in silence for some time, interrupted only by the soft flutter of Hixus returning with a reply.

"Hermione says they will come before dinner. She wants to do some research first." He smiled, thankful that he knew Hermione so well.

Draco nodded and set his, now empty, cup of tea on the end table. "I can go, then. Come back around that time." He made to stand and Harry placed a hand on his shoulder, sitting him down again.

"Why do you keep trying to leave? I'm not going to force you to stay, but you and I both know that you want to." Harry shocked himself, and Draco, at that statement. He hadn't meant it to sound the way it did, but he couldn't deny that he was proclaiming that he knew Draco wanted to be with him alluding at some attraction. "I mean… I know you don't want to be alone, right now. You wouldn't have come here if you did." He rubbed the back of his neck a little, looking away.

Draco flushed and looked away a little. "You're right. I do want to stay. I just… I don't want to force you into this." He looked to Harry who was flushing now as well.

"Force me into what, Draco?" His heart was beating quickly now. Was he thinking too much into the words they were saying to one another?

"Into this battle." Draco said quietly. Harry breathed a sigh. He was thinking too much into the words. "This is the very thing you ran from and now I'm dragging you back—"

"You're not dragging me back, Draco. I want to do this. I want to help. I owe it to you for everything you have done for me in the last few weeks and…" he looked to Draco, "I _want_ to do this _for_ you. Not just because of my debt to you."

Draco laughed a little, the joy at hearing Harry's words bubbling up out of the pit of his stomach uncontrollably. "You don't owe me any debt, Harry. I wanted to help you. The world needed you back. I needed—" he stopped himself before he could say anything further. As Harry stared at him with wide eyes, he thought of what he should say next. Was this really the time to talk about this? To bring up the tension the two men had been avoiding the last few days? If anything, it was a welcome distraction from thoughts of his mother.

But, he didn't' say anything. He wasn't able to, because Harry had moved in closer, his face just inches from his own. He couldn't stop himself. Draco had consumed his thoughts again over the last few days, always coming forth over everything else he had been thinking of. It was no different than school. The only difference was now, Draco was here not as an enemy, but as a friend—leaving Harry free to explore the feelings he had been trying to understand.

His heart was beating loudly in his chest as he reached a hand out to Draco's face. Draco let his hand come up and meet Harry's, his fingers trembling as they laced with the darker skin of the man in front of him. Neither man spoke. They just stayed like that for a few moments before they both moved forward almost at the same time—as if each were acting on their own desires, not the action of the other.

When their lips met, for the second time since their reunion a few weeks ago, both could feel the tension melt away. Draco relaxed into Harry's touch as the Gryffindor took the lead. The blonde let himself give in to Harry's tongue, moaning a little as he could feel the growing heat within him. The feeling was intense as Draco shoved aside any darkness that was clouding his thoughts, letting only the immense joy that filled him during this moment. Harry's touch was healing him by the second and when the young man pulled away, Draco moved forward not wanting to let go.

They stared at each other for a while, both in shock at what had just happened. Harry felt instantly guilty for taking advantage of a vulnerable moment. "I'm sorry." He spoke quietly, looking away from Draco.

"I'm not." Draco said quietly, biting his lip. The words caused Harry to look up at him, his eyes filled with wonder. "I'll admit that my mind is not in its best state, but I am not sorry in the least, Harry. I've wanted this. Since you came to stay with me, and I think long before then." Draco let his hand fall into Harry's lap, wrapping around Harry's hand.

Harry could feel his heart flutter a little at Draco's words and even more at his touch. He looked up into the silver orbs that were watching him, smiling bashfully. "Then I'm not the only one."

They stared at each other again, both men trying to find the courage to speak up. Finally, it was Draco who broke the ice. "So, what does this mean?" Where did Harry see this going? He didn't know himself. The only thing he was sure of was that he didn't want to lose Harry Potter again.

Harry thought carefully for a moment. "I think," he said slowly, "This means that I have something to stay for." And with that, Draco was the one moving in on Harry for their next kiss.


	25. Chapter 25

**{The usual rigamaroll here, folks. I don't own any of these characters - the great J.K. Rowling does. I just love them with all of my heart and am a firm believer that Harry and Draco belong together for life. Not profiting off of this story, just here to entertain! Thank you for the reviews, by the way. Means a lot!}**

 **Chapter 25**

When Hermione and Ron arrived to Harry's apartment, she was too focused on the task at hand to notice that the tension between the two men had completely dissipated. Of course, they weren't ready to discuss the development in their relationship with their friends quite yet—they were barely able to talk about it themselves—so they did not make any attempt to bring it up.

"I pulled some interesting texts from the Ministry library before coming over here." Hermione said as Ron set down a rather large stack of books on Harry's coffee table. "And I think I have some idea of what might be responsible for your mother's death, Draco."

Harry and Draco eyed her curiously. " _What_ might be responsible?" Draco emphasized the word what. Was this not the act of a human?

Hermione nodded, "Well, sort of. Have either of you heard of Adimagi?" She sat down on the floor, opening a large tome about Magical World History. She flipped through the pages as the men sat down. Draco furrowed his brow a little, Ron and Harry looking completely lost. "Didn't think so. I read about it in this book a few years back as we were looking into communications with the other wizarding worlds. I wanted to brush up on specific histories. I took this out for a quick history lesson."

Ron eyed the size of the book Hermione was thumbing through, "A _quick_ lesson, dear?" Harry laughed a little, looking to Draco—who was intently focused on Hermione now.

"Well, Granger? What is it?" Draco said with a slight urgency. Hermione nodded as she found the passage.

"This is from a bit of history from America." She began to read, "In 1692 in colonial Massachusetts, a series of "witch hunts" began by the Muggles—or No Maj as the Americans call them. Brought on by a few blood-thirsty, power hungry wizards who emigrated to the New World, the witch trials served as their way to eliminate competition in the New World. Anyone suspected of witchcraft was murdered, typically by a barbaric ritual of live, public burning." Hermione shuddered as did Ron.

Harry looked to Draco who was intently focused on Hermione as she continued, "These puritans and Scourers as they were later known to be developed a dark magic as a way to further profit from the death of their magical brethren. A type of magic called Adimagia began to grow as a result of a mix of European Magic and Native American Magic. Adimagia is quite literally to steal someone's magic. It is a complicated spell that is chanted and can only be performed as a magical body is in the process of death. As the body dies, a wizard's magic will stay in-tact, only beginning to fade once the human soul has moved on.

"Many of the Scourers brought their fellow wizards to trial in order to steal their powers so they may grow powerful enough to capitalize on the turmoil within the American No-Maj Colonies. The Adimagi were a short-lived threat, however, as the magic was so dark that each intake of magic began to lead to their own death. A very powerful wizard is capable of transferring their magical being into another vessel, but the magic is difficult. The only known Adimagia to survive the spells was sent to Whispering Meadows Sanctuary for the Magically Insane in Upstate New York. "

Draco stared at Hermione, his mouth hanging open a little. Did Hermione really think someone with an ancient American power was in London, murdering the innocent?

Harry was the first to speak, "Hermione, if this is true. Why would there be an Adamagia in London? And what would they want with Andromeda or Narcissa?"

Hermione shrugged, "I don't know, Harry. It's the only known magic that can remove the magical soul of another wizard. The torturous death fits as the spell does take some time and can only be performed as a body is dying." Draco paled at the realization that his mother was tortured for dark magic. Something he had hoped she would never have to see again. "Unfortunately, there is not a lot of information on Adimagia, not here. I have talked with the historical researchers at the Ministry and they are going to reach out to their American colleagues to see if anyone closer to the source may have an answer."

Draco was up now, pacing. He was deep in thought and the Trio watched him. Finally her turned to Hermione, "What about Whispering Meadows? Do you think someone there would remember the Adimagia? Do you think he or she is still alive?"

Hermione thought for a moment, "I'm not sure, Draco. We can try and contact someone." Draco shook his head, "No. I think this is something that needs to be dealt with in person. I want to travel overseas to conduct research myself."

Hermione and Ron looked at one another, Hermione biting her lip. Draco caught the exchange and crossed his arms, "Granger. Why do you seem opposed," he demanded.

"Well," she said slowly, "the ministry isn't fully convinced that you are not another think it might be best for you to remain out of the investigation and possibly under protection." She winced instinctively, waiting for the verbal blow that was sure to come. It did.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT! THIS WAS MY MOTHER, MY AUNT, MY FAMILY WHO WAS MURDERED BY THIS… BEAST! I WILL NOT BACK OUT OF THIS INVESTIGATION AND I WILL NOT GO UNDER PROTECTION!" Harry's hand was quickly on Draco's arm, eliciting wide eyes from Ron and Hermione.

"Draco, she might be right. It might not be safe for you." Draco went to speak, turning at Harry, but instantly calming upon seeing his face. He let the dark-haired wizard speak. "However, I think with the proper guard, there should be no reason why Draco cannot travel." Harry looked at Ron and Hermione.

"What are you saying, Harry?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"I can accompany Draco. The two of us should be more than safe. We can contact the President of the Wizarding community, alert him of our travels and ask for safe lodging." Draco's eyes lit up at Harry's suggestion, nodding and staring at Hermione, who was silent.

"Hermione, I hate to agree with them, but I think Harry and Draco are right. These things are always better in person and you and I are not able to—" Hermione slapped Ron hard on the arm, preventing him from saying anything further. He winced and rubbed his arm, looking sheepish.

Harry shot Hermione a curious glance, but let it slide as she spoke. "Very well. I will organize it with Kingsley and will get you details in the next few days."

The four shared a small meal shortly after—prepared by Harry-trying to push away thoughts of the upcoming travel and the case. They tried to enjoy their time together as friends. After an hour or so of conversation, Harry let Draco and Ron continue their argument about Ron's Quidditch Team and why they lost the semi-finals and he pulled Hermione to the side.

"So why don't you explain to me why you and Ron are not able to take part in this adventure? You know you would be a huge asset and that Draco would be more than happy to have you travel along." He stared at Hermione waiting for an answer as she flushed.

"Well, it's not quite safe for me to travel right now." She placed a gentle hand on her stomach, smiling up at Harry. Harry went wide eyed and smiled from ear to ear. He went to talk, but Hermione put a finger to his lips. "No! Not yet. The family doesn't even know. We want to make sure everything is going as planned and that he or she is healthy before we make the announcement."

Harry couldn't resist, he pulled her into a tight hug—ignored by Ron and Draco who were still in a heated discussion. Hermione wiped away the tears of happiness as Harry pulled back. "Besides, Harry. It will give you and Draco time to… catch up." She gave Harry a knowing smile who flushed a little and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I suppose so." He said, causing Hermione to grin from ear to ear.

Later that evening, after Hermione and Ron had left, Draco and Harry found themselves standing awkwardly by the fire. "I suppose I should go." Draco said, shuffling his feet a little. He wasn't sure where he and Harry really stood, so it was unclear if he should invite himself to stay longer.

Harry nodded, "It would probably be best. I suppose you have a long day ahead of you at the Ministry tomorrow to prepare for the trip and I will have to start getting things together myself…" He trailed off, waiting for Draco to step in. Should he invite him to stay? He wasn't sure what their current relationship called for.

Draco nodded, "Okay well then…" both men stared at each other and Draco couldn't stand to look at Harry any longer. He pulled the man in close for a chaste kiss. It instantly calmed any nerves he had and warmed him from the inside.

Harry breathed in the scent of the blonde as his lips were covered. He let his hand grasp at Draco's lightly, wanting to pull back when Draco broke the kiss. "You'll come tomorrow?" Harry asked almost immediately, the kiss giving him a little more bravado than he had just moments before. "I'll cook!" Harry offered the bribe.

Draco smiled as he moved to the fireplace, "I would've come without the offer of food." And with that he was gone, leaving Harry's heart racing.

Druisilla lit a warm fire in the woods. She set up her tent far off the path so that she wouldn't be bothered by any passersby. Tomorrow she was set to head to the Ministry of Magic in an attempt to find her brother. As she sat back in her chair, a small eagle swooped into the clearing. She eyed the bird carefully, recognizing it as her boss'. She untied the letter from his leg, letting him nibble on a crust of bread she had sticking out of her pack.

 _Dru-  
I hope your holiday is well. I hate to ask this of you, but is there any chance you can return a few days early? We have received word from the Ministry of Magic in London wanting to send a few representatives of the Ministry to investigate a mysterious death. Sounds like something you might be able to help with. They mentioned Adimagia and I know it was an area of interest of yours in school. Send Godfrey back with a quick reply. He will wait. _

_-Scott_

Drusilla let out a squeal of delight, causing Godfrey to ruffle his feathers and squawk in response. "Oh, don't you worry, Scott. I will be there." She pulled a pen out of her pack and penned a quick response, sending Godfrey on his way. Oh what a convenient turn of events. They were sending someone from the Ministry to talk to her about her own murder. She was delighted. She would travel back first thing in the morning. Maybe the Ministry could lead her to her brother.

She had no idea how easy it was going to be.


End file.
